Aperture Science Afterlife
by E1craZ4life
Summary: In the aftermath of the Combine's overthrowing, a farmer has set up a wheat farm in Upper Michigan to help Earth recover from the horrific ordeal. One day, he finds a recent escapee from Aperture Science, who explains her escapade beneath the surface of the Earth. But as events will soon dictate, she's not the only one with a story to tell.
1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**_Aperture Science Afterlife_**  
><em>A Portal FanFiction by E1craZ4life<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Part I: How it Started<strong>  
>Chapter One<p>

It was a pleasant day on the farm. The Earth had been free of the Combine's rule for nearly a year, and everyone, including myself, was doing their part to rebuild what could be redeemed for Earth. It was my job to grow and harvest wheat to contribute to feeding the slowly replenishing population of Earth.

One of the consequences of the Combine takeover was an almost year-round summer climate, even in places where it there had been a temperate climate; while this did pose a hazard in terms of overheating in the sun, it proved beneficial to farmers like me, as we could grow and harvest goods year-round.

I had acquired a large tract of land in Upper Michigan after the Combine was overthrown, which I used to grow my wheat. My house and barn were located a ways beyond the eastern edge of the field, with a long paved driveway leading to a small town where I traded out my wheat for goods and tender.

The field was so large that I had set up tool sheds throughout it stocked with supplies that I could use in case any of my equipment had a problem. Each section was marked according to the shed situated within it, and their locations were mapped and numbered for quick and easy navigation through the field.

Living and working alone, I had amassed a great fortune that I kept stowed away in the basement of my house. And it stayed that way until one day during one of my harvests.

I was driving my special margarine-fueled combine through one of my fields, and I was getting ready to sow new seeds after I had finished. I kept a large bag of wheat seed in each shed, and the sheds had a handful of security features to prevent unwanted hands getting the shed's contents filthy.

The last scraps of wheat had been harvested, and I headed up to the shed to grab my seed. I typed the security code into the door, and the door pushed itself open to reveal shelves lining the back walls of the corrugated metal shed. I stepped inside and hoisted the bag of seed across the manhole cover in the middle of the floor before heaving it into my arms.

I set the bag of seed by the outside face of the door and walked around back to close it. Pulling the lever set off the familiar sound of the door slamming shut. But on this occasion, I heard something I wasn't used to: I heard a woman stirring as if she had been woken from a deep sleep. Walking back out to the front, I saw that there was indeed a woman sprawled out near the shed. It did intrigue me that I hadn't noticed her the first time I had been at the door.

She was blanketed in soot and smears of what looked to be paint. She was lying on her stomach on a large sooty crate that looked about half as tall as the woman sleeping on it and came up almost to the top of my thighs but not quite. She looked either Hispanic or Japanese, with her dark hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing a white tank-top, an orange jumpsuit tied around her waist, and a pair of metallic white boots with springs on the heels.

I eyed one face of the crate, which looked as though it had once been white, and on it, I could just make out an upside-down heart shape. When I nudged the crate with my foot, I could tell that it was fairly heavy but still light enough for a person to carry. I gently tapped it with my toe until the woman woke up.

Almost as soon as she saw me, she got so scared that she fell off the crate and landed in the wheat grass behind it.

"What're ya doin' out 'ere, lady?" I asked her as she got back up.

She looked around as if she were doubtful about the integrity of her surroundings. "What year is it?"

I was somewhat taken off guard by her question. "Yer askin' what year it is?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Where you been da lass twedy-seven years, huh?"

She looked back at the shed. "Was I really down there that long?"

"To answer yer queshin, da curr'nt year iss twedy-twedy-eight."

"2028?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She picked up the crate in her arms. "So, how did you get out here?"

"I ashed you firss."

She rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. "I just escaped from an underground science research facility where I had been held as a test subject by a crazy homicidal robot."

"Ah, Black Mesa's all da way over at New Mesico, an' dat place 'as long since bin d'stroyed."

"No, I was at Black Mesa's rival company."

"Ya mean da folks dat built da _Borealis_?"

"I believe so."

"Dat wuz, uh... Amateur Science, was it?"

"_Aperture_ Science."

"I see. So, d'ya really 'spect me ta b'leev dat dere's an entire science lab under dis 'ere shed?"

"Do you expect me to believe that a small tool shed in the middle of a vast field of wheat has any practical purpose?"

"Dere're tool sheds built all 'cross da field, and I keep a bag o' wheat seed in each one, as well as tools for ma' combine harvester-" I thumbed the vehicle parked behind me, "-so I don hafta head back to da barn."

"Did you build those sheds?"

"Yes, I did. Da foundations were ar'dy dere b'fore I built dem, an' ma' guess is dat dere'd been some sheds 'ere b'fore dat got d'stroy'd by a swarm o' aliens dat took over da planet fer twedy-sumtin' years."

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by her stomach grumbling.

"Wuss say ya hop in 'ere, an' I can take ya ta ma' house an' getcha sum eatins for ya."

"Okay." She hauled herself into the passenger seat of the combine with the crate in her lap, and I brought the combine back to the barn.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Two<p>

As we headed back to the barn, we resumed talking.

"So, wuss yer name, girl?"

"Chelsea."

"Name's Frank."

"Nice to meet you, Frank."

"Aright, so, I figger when we get to da house, I can hose ya down an' den I can getcha sumtin' ta eat."

"Sounds good to me."

"It may be a while 'til we're at da house, so if dere wuz anytin' ya wanted ta talk 'bout, you go right 'head."

Chelsea squinted through the dusty windshield at a building in the distance. "Is that the house right there?"

"Ashelly, dass ma' barn; ma' house is right b'hind it, so y'can't see it from 'ere."

"You must have a pretty small house, then."

"Yeah. I live 'lone. Bud I also got a 'uge barn."

"What do you use the barn for?"

"I use it mosely fer storin' wheat, ma' combine, a tractor an' trailer, an' a han'ful o' tools an' s'plies fer da combine."

"Why do you have so much wheat? What do you do with it all?"

"I dunno if ya'd 'eard er not, bein' underground fer more dan twedy-seven years,-"

"I've been underground for 30 years."

"Yeah, bein' underground fer tirty years,- wait a sec... ya don look ta be tirty-sumtin' years old; ya don look mush older dan I am."

"Hm. Well, I don't really have an answer for you there."

"Yeah. Anyway, dere'd been a swarm o' aliens dat 'ad taken over Eart from twedy-o-one ta twedy-twedy-seven. Dey purdy mush drain'd mosta Eart's resources an' enslav'd mosto' da populashun."

Chelsea took a shallow breath out. "I guess She was right about that."

"Who wuz right 'bout wut?"

"Nothing; I was talking to myself."

We arrived at the barn, and I parked the combine beside the door. "Aright. Hop on out, an' I'll hose ya down."

She stepped out of the combine, bringing the box with her, and stood on the grass as I picked up the hose. "Da water's a bit cold, juss so ya know."

"I'm ready." She held her arms out, and I let 'er rip with the hose.

I was a little surprised at how quickly the cleaning process lasted. I really thought the soot would take some vigorous scrubbing to remove. But it washed off almost with the splashes of paint on her skin and clothes, which practically melted in the cold water.

"Aright. If ya wanna stand out here an' dry, I'll go inside an' see what I can find fer ya."

"Okay." She started massaging her arms to warm herself up.

* * *

><p>About half an hour later, Chelsea had finished drying and had come into the house with the box that had also been cleaned of its soot. She put it beside the table and gathered a collection of food stuffs on a plate. She had a ham and turkey sandwich, apples, bacon, and a glass of milk. I got my meal together and sat myself opposite Chelsea, who was sitting on the crate she had brought in.<p>

"So, wuss on yer min', Chelsea?"

"I'm just thinking about the whole alien invasion you had mentioned."

"Yeah, iss been da wurss ting dat ever happ'nd on Eart in hist'ry."

"Hm. Well, I'm sure it couldn't have been worse than being hunted down by a crazy supercomputer in an underground laboratory."

"Way wurss."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She finished off half of her sandwich before speaking up again. "You don't suppose I could stay here for a bit, do you?"

"Naw, you go right 'head; I don minja stayin' 'ere."

She picked up the other half of her sandwich. "Has it ever occurred to you that there exists a science research facility under this wheat field?"

"Naw, it 'asn't. An' I woodn' b'leve it if I wuzn' shown ma'self dat it ezist'd."

"Well, it'd probably be too risky to show you, but I could tell you about what I'd gone through when I was there."

"I'll tell ya wut. Once we're done eatin', I'll be headin' out ta town; I gotta run up today's harvest ta da mill so I can gadder up s'plies an' wutavya. I can getcha sum tings datju can use ta write up a story datju can read ta me."

"Can I go with you? I'd like to get a look around to see what's changed out here."

"Sure. Dat'll be perfitly fine wit me."

We finished up our meal, and I went to the barn to get the trailer loaded up with wheat and hitched to the tractor. Chelsea came out with the crate in tow when I called for her, and we hopped in the tractor and headed out to town.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Three<p>

* * *

><p>My house had a fairly large driveway, owing to my house's distance from town and the size of my tractor; the driveway was long enough that Chelsea and I had a fairly long discussion about what she had missed on the surface.<p>

"So, Frank, how many people are there in the world now?"

"I dunno; I never took da time ta figger out fer ma'self. Bud I do know dat dere ain't nowhere near as many as dere useta be."

"Yeah. How did it all start and end?"

"Nobody knows fer sure how it all start'd, but what iz known iz dat it all start'd at da Black Mesa Research Facility in New Mesico. Far as people know, only a few dozen o' dem science folks were able ta 'scape durin' an esp'rment gone hor'bly wrong; almost all o' da tous'nds o' pers'nell were eider killed by de aliens dat swarmed da place or by da mil'try guys dat tried unsussessf'ly ta stop 'em. No one knows how any o' da survivors 'scaped from dere 'scept fer... I tink, tree er five o' dem. Don r'member deir names 'scept fer Gordon Freeman."

We arrived at the mill, and I parked the tractor at the back loading station. "Y'wanna help unload da trailer, or y'wanna stay dere while I take care o' dis?"

"I'll come with you." She jumped out her side, shut the door behind her, and met up with me at the loaded trailer.

"Aright. Da wheat's ar'dy been bundl'd t'gedder, so all datja hafta do iz grab 'em an' drop 'em where I show ya." I took a bundle of wheat and laid it down on the loading ramp, and she followed my example.

"Now, we juss keep doin' it 'til all da wheat iz off da trailer. 'K?"

It was about half an hour before we had completely unloaded the trailer. Once I'd collected my payment from the mill, we hopped back into the tractor and started driving away.

"Now, we juss gotta stop inta town ta get sum s'plies, an' den we'll 'ead back to da house."

"Okay."

There were no problems getting the supplies I needed. I mentioned to Chelsea that I kept a typewriter and a large stash of paper in the basement of my house, which I used mainly for typing up orders for various goods, and that she was free to use it at her leisure as long as she saved any discarded paper for me to use elsewhere.

After we got back, and the supplies were taken to their proper places, Chelsea headed down to the basement and started up on the typewriter writing up her story.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Four<p>

* * *

><p>The next fifteen months went through a normal routine. Chelsea set up a living quarters in the basement and spent almost the entire day every day typing up ideas on my typewriter. I did have a pretty easy time looking after her, and she was fairly happy living with me. The only thing that bugged me was that she seemed to burn the candle at both ends with her writing, which made it difficult to sleep at night; but I got used to it after two weeks and slept through the sound of her typing away.<p>

At the end of those fifteen months, she finished her story and was ready to share it with me. I brought her to the kitchen to read it to me.

"Dass a lotta papers ya got dere, Chelsea."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." She set down the thick stack on the table, which creaked under the weight.

"Aright, less see what we got 'ere." I pulled up a seat opposite Chelsea, who sat down on her crate before fingering through the stack.

Before she could start, I heard a noise in the distance. "Wuss dat?"

Chelsea looked around for the source of the sound. "I don't know."

"Souns like iss comin' from ou'side; less go check it out."

We headed out the back door, and the noise was almost deafening. With hands over our ears, we looked around until Chelsea pointed over my head. I turned around and saw an airplane flying low toward the house with fire billowing from both engines.

"GET DOWN!" I yelled to Chelsea, and we both jumped down on our frontsides and covered our heads with our hands.

The plane whooshed over the house, and second later, I heard a loud thud on the other side where the driveway was. Chelsea and I got up and ran around the house, which the plane had missed completely. When we saw the plane, it was rolling down the driveway at a high rate of speed.

"Get back inside; I'll meet up wicha lader."

Chelsea went inside as I ran after the plane that had landed on my driveway. I didn't know for how much longer it was going to move, but it had to stop sometime. It finally did, and as soon as I caught up with it, slides had been deployed and people were sliding out. The engines were still burning, and people on both sides of the plane were scrambling down the driveway toward my house. They didn't get far past the back of the plane before they were stopped by voices inside the plane yelling at them to wait.

Eventually, people stopped coming out of the plane, and the flight attendants were counting the people that were standing behind the burning plane. I saw two men who I assumed were the pilots standing by the front of the plane talking. I walked around the right side of the plane, making sure to keep a respectful distance from the smoldering engine, and approached the pilots.

As soon as they caught sight of me, they looked to each other in confusion.

The pilot with black hair spoke first. "Was he on the plane?"

The brown-haired pilot shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Naw, I wuz'n on dis 'ere plane; I own da wheat fields dat you'd landed on (wish, by da way, wuz a purdy sp'tak'lar job if I do say so ma'self)."

The brown-haired pilot looked up and nodded. "Yeah, it is. Of course, we still need to make sure the passengers all made it out okay."

"So, whuddre yer guyz' names?"

The pilot with black hair answered me. "I'm David Grison, and this is James Murphy. He's the captain, I'm the copilot."

"Frank Torrington. I been a wheat farmer fer a li'l more dan two years." We shook hands before I asked them, "How many folks 'ad been on da plane?"

Captain Murphy took a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "Let's see... there were four cabin crew, the two of us, and... 130 passengers. That makes 136 total."

"Wuss say we head back to da back an' see if dey're all dere?"

"Yeah, let's do that." First Officer Grison led the way.

We were met by one of the flight attendants. "Everyone made it out, Captain; everyone's safe."

"Excellent. Now we need to figure out where to go until rescue arrives."

"I'm purdy sure ma' barn can 'old 'underd-tirty-siss people fer da time bein'. Follow me."

As I led the crowd away from the melting plane, I saw Chelsea walking down the driveway towards me. "We're headin' inta da barn, Chelsea. I could use sum 'elp gettin' ev'ryone settl'd in dere."

She nodded and headed to the barn to open the doors.

The passengers were quick to enter, but eight of the passengers stayed outside surveying the area.

The eight people that stayed outside looked uncannily similar to one another. They were all wearing white (their lab coats, shoes, even their skin) and one of eight different colors (their undershirts, leg clothing, eyes, even their hair was their special color). The order in which they were standing formed a rainbow between them.

Ignoring the oddity of their appearances, I beckoned them, "You folks joinin' de odders inside or wut?"

The blue man answered in a British voice. "Okay, okay, we're going in."

After they were herded inside, I shut the door behind me as I followed them.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Five<p>

* * *

><p>The barn was crammed with people talking rather loudly. People were climbing up to the upper level of the barn and sorting themselves in the confined space of the barn. Eventually, they all sorted out into groups of eight in the 17 spaces that made up the barn. There was a large space in the middle where the tractor, trailer, and combine were kept. On one side were eight open spaces used for storing wheat; four on top, four on bottom. And the same layout existed on the other side. Chelsea and I were in the tractor space with the last eight passengers to enter the barn.<p>

Chelsea seemed quick to recognize them and vice versa.

The man in green spoke first. "Hey, long time no see, gorgeous!"

He was followed by the girl in orange. "Oh, hey! You're the lady from the test! Hi!"

Next was the man in pink. "You could stand to lose a few pounds."

The boy in yellow was jumping around uncontrollably. "Too crowded! Too crowded! Wanna go back to space!"

He was slapped by the teenager in red. "We are not going back to space!"

The woman in purple was quick to restrain him. "Hey! Don't you **ever** hit him like that!"

In the corner, I could hear the person in aqua reading to himself, but I didn't quite pick up what he was saying.

Finally, the blue Briton shimmied around the others where Chelsea was standing. "Are you who I think you are?"

Chelsea nodded as she bounced her heel on her crate which rested behind her.

My mind was thrown into a loop. "Who're y'all?"

"Oh, sorry." The man in blue straightened his fedora. "I don't think we've introduced ourselves." He cleared his throat. "My name's Wheatley Pendleton."

The woman in purple was next. "I'm Martha Rattmann,-" she pointed out the kid in yellow, "-and that's my son, Andy."

Next was the teen in red. "Victor Wesley,-" he was joined by the man in pink, "-and my dad, Walter."

"According to most advanced algorithms, the world's best name is Craig."

The man in green flashed a smile. "Rick Johnson."

The girl in orange had been examining a wrench. "I'm Hannah Jenkins."

And finally, the person in aqua. "Sam Leland."

"Well, iss a pleasure ta meet y'all. Name's Frank Torrington."

Chelsea stepped up to my side and looked at each of the eight people who had just introduced themselves. "I've seen all of these people."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They're robots from Aperture Science."

"Whaddaya-oh. I guess dat esplains why dey 'ave white skin, color'd 'air, an' glowin' eyes."

None of the people around us ten seemed to be paying much attention to us, as they appeared distracted amongst themselves in each of the 16 groups of 8. But suddenly, a sudden clap silenced everyone in the barn. We all looked around, but nobody could be attributed to the sudden sound. Then, the concrete floor started to shift into the ground, forming a staircase leading into a tunnel.

All of my vehicles were clear of the newly formed staircase, so that was a relief for me. But the passengers were staring at the tunnel, wondering if they should go in.

Chelsea looked at the tunnel. "I think I know what's down there."

"Wuss down dere?"

"It's a passageway down to Aperture Science. I think we should stay up here if we know what's good for us."

"Yeah. I ain't goin' tru any doors witout knowin' wuss on de odder side."

"Wise thinking, Frank. Wise thinking."

Victor whispered under his breath. "I'm sure one person will be too curious to resist going down there, and when that happens, everyone else will follow."

That one person turned out to be Hannah. "What's that light at the end of the tunnel?"

Sam and Victor were quick to restrain her and keep her out of the tunnel.

But just seconds later, Chelsea started to sniff the air. "Do you smell that?"

I could smell it, too. "Kinda smells like choc'late."

"It smells like we're being lured into the tunnel."

"I figger we oughta juss get outta da barn an' wait outside fer whoever's comin' ta get y'all outta here."

Several passengers were quick to point out that the doors weren't opening. I tried opening the big doors at either end of the barn, but they too were stuck shut.

"What in tar-nation?"

Chelsea sighed and picked up her box with her paper stack on top of it. "I guess we're going to _have_ to go down there. I'll lead the way down there with the Cores following me,-" she indicated the eight robots, "-then Frank, then everybody else. I need everyone to stay in a single file line when we walk down _and walk slowly_. Got it?"

Various responses of approval passed from everyone.

Chelsea slowly stepped down the stairs, and we all followed her through the tunnel. Once the last passenger had entered, the entrance slammed shut, trapping us all in darkness.

* * *

><p>Nobody was keeping track of how long we were walking through the tunnel, and nobody could see their hand in front of their face in the pitch darkness. But we felt that as long as we stayed together and Chelsea knew where she was going, we would be okay.<p>

We eventually reached a level area, and even though it was still dark, the absence of echoing footsteps seemed like evidence that we had reached a large room. The suspicion was fed when Chelsea heard the footsteps of the last passenger in front of her, followed by a door slamming shut on the wall she had been following.

Chelsea reacted immediately to that sound. "Okay, everyone stop where you are!"

We were all quick to acquiesce.

There was absolute silence for a moment.

Then, suddenly, light filled the area.

The light confirmed that we were now in a large room, and that everyone was lined up along the wall in a ring.

Almost as soon as the light came on, a sinister laugh filled the room. We quickly found it to be coming from the center of the room, where a large, robotic chassis was dangling from the ceiling.

Sitting in the chassis was a woman who appeared twice as big as a normal human being. She had metallic white skin and shiny white hair which ran parallel to Her jawline, bright yellow eyes, thick lashes, and black lips stretched in a malevolent smile, revealing perfect teeth underneath. She wore a headset similar to what an airplane pilot would wear, a black turtleneck, metallic white lab coat, and a necklace with a large glowing yellow gemstone. She had a metallic white skirt, long black socks that covered Her entire legs, and white high heels.

The chassis slowly turned in circles as Her black-nailed fingers drummed together as Her voice boomed out from all around. "Excellent. My plan has worked perfectly."

Everyone started talking nervously amongst themselves.

"You're probably wondering why I gathered you all here. Before I answer that, I believe a formal introduction is in order." Her chassis continued to turn in circles at a consistent rate. "Your present location lies within the science research laboratory Aperture Science. Some of you may recognize it as the company which constructed the _Borealis_ icebreaker ship, among other instances. Presently, I am the Central Core of Aperture Science, overseeing all of the functions that happen in and around the facility. My technical name is the Aperture Science Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System; however, I am willing to accept a reference as GLaDOS. Though, be advised that few are willing to speak it aloud as I have just done."

One of the passengers spoke up. "What do you want with us?"

"I'll explain; I just need to make sure I have who I want." Her gaze turned upon me, Chelsea, and the eight Cores. "Ah, there they are." She folded Her hands and leaned in toward us. "So nice of you to return here. By which I mean the eight of you,-" She pointed out the robots, "-not you." She pointed at Chelsea.

Chelsea's only response was to roll her eyes.

I turned my gaze upon Her. "Wuss goin' on 'ere?"

Chelsea had set her box down behind her. "Perhaps I can explain."

GLaDOS seemed taken aback. "Oh, so you _can_ talk?"

I was taken off guard by that statement. "Um... whaddaya mean by dat?"

Chelsea answered me. "It'd make more sense if I gave you a bit of background between us ten."

GLaDOS squinted at Chelsea. "Is that what that immense pile of paper is resting on top of the Weighted Companion Cube which you brought with you?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking maybe I can read it aloud to the people in the room."

"If you insist, I will allow you to do so under the condition that I be allowed to tell my story alongside you."

Wheatley finally worked up the courage to speak. "What about me? Can I tell my story with you two?"

"I suppose watching you make a fool of yourself in front of an entire 737's worth of passengers will be worthwhile."

"Okay, we'll each take turns telling our story together. I'll start, then you can go, then Wheatley, then me, then you, then him, then... you get that, right?"

"I suppose that's doable."

"Yeah, what She said."

Martha spoke up. "Do you really expect all these people to stay here for who-knows-how-long and listen to you three storytelling?"

"As long as I'm sitting here,-" She narrowed Her eyes at Wheatley, "-and don't get any ideas-I have the final say on what goes on here."

Chelsea headed toward the center of the room. "Is everyone ready?"

"Well, da sooner dis starts, da sooner it can end."

"Alright, let's get started." She set down the box, picked up her paper stack, and started reading.


	6. Chell's Story: Chapter A1

**Chell's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter One<p>

* * *

><p>I was born on January 17, 1989 to a life of intense bullying. My female classmates thought I was abandoned at birth by my parents and continuously taunted my refusal to believe the bizarre stories they told me. Nobody would turn their comments away from me, and I felt like the victim of a conspiracy.<p>

At first, I tried to ignore them. It was fairly easy to not say anything to them when they started making fun of me. I was successful at keeping my peace of mind, even when the teacher sent me to the principal's office because of something one of the girls did. (The principal was actually the only faculty member in the school that didn't believe what the girls were saying, so I was actually happy about being in the principal's office.)

Things came to a head, however, when I made friends with a student named Pedro, a foster child from Venezuela. Dad had kept a number of unused Spanish books at home, and through them, I was able to teach myself to speak Spanish. (Enseñando mí mismo hablar Español era algo que yo hacía después de completar mi trabajo para escuela para distraer mí mismo de las cosas que las chicas estaban deciendo sobre mí.) Pedro's English was poor, and it was me being bilingual in Spanish and English that helped us form a friendship. But the girls booby-trapped a gift I made him, and that was the last straw.

From that day forward, I swore I would have revenge on the girls. And it came on May 16, 1998 at Aperture Laboratories.

* * *

><p>Aperture was hosting its first Bring Your Daughter to Work Day event. My dad worked there as a computer programmer, and I had gone there for a weekend in February. I had hoped to take part in the event, which featured a science fair as the grand finale. My hope was that if I got first place in the science fair, the girls would stop mocking me with their stories. Of course, it could make the situation worse, but at least I'd have something to flaunt in their faces.<p>

I expected that all of the girls would do baking soda volcanoes for their projects, so I decided to do a potato battery for my project. But as it turned out, Heather was the only girl that did a baking soda volcano; everyone else did potato batteries. This prompted me to look for some way to jazz up my own project to boost my chances.

I had scouted the offices during my weekend visit in February (including the chamber where Dad's big project was), so I knew where Dad's office was. I snuck out of the cafeteria during lunch and scampered through the halls until I came across the door labeled "D. Rattmann", then slipped through the not completely latched door inside the office unseen.

There was a file cabinet behind the desk stocked with various chemicals, and I quietly searched through it until I found a vial labeled "Growth Accelerator"; this gave me the idea of testing a hypothesis about whether a germinated potato would generate more or less power than a normal potato.

I slipped the vial in my pocket and made my way back to the cafeteria. Nobody seemed to notice that I had gone missing for a longer time than could be accounted for by a restroom break. I saw Dad talking to another scientist and decided to listen in on what they were saying.

Dad was the first to speak when I was within earshot. "I'm telling you, there's nothing that'll get this project to work."

"We've already told you there's nothing to worry about, Doug."

"What's not to worry about when the building starts to flood with neurotoxin every time it gets turned on? And that there's a planned start-up after the science fair while the girls are still here?"

"We have it under control; we've added new hardware to make sure it operates the way it should."

"You've said that the last 27 times, and every time, it doesn't work."

"Not this time; this time, we know it's going to work."

"Again, that's what you said the last 27 times."

"And that's why we have the Red Phone, so we can call the start-up station to shut it down if things do go wrong."

"You can't rely on the Red Phone forever. And now that I think about it, why isn't the start-up station located in the chamber itself?"

"Why are you asking me? I didn't write up the blueprints or design the facility layout."

The PA system came online to address the people in the cafeteria. "Attention: this is a reminder that the Aperture Science Bring Your Daughter to Work Day Science Fair will start in 30 minutes. All personnel and visitors partaking in the event are advised to start heading down so as to prepare for the science fair. Thank you."

All the girls finished their meals and headed to the lobby where the science fair stations were waiting.


	7. Chell's Story: Chapter A2

**Chell's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Two

* * *

><p>The science fair was unremarkable, as the girls showed very little enthusiasm for their projects except Heather, who was the first to present her project. I was the last in line, which I had requested in the hopes that my project could serve as a grand finale. But given the lack of excitement, it was difficult not to fall asleep; the only thing that kept anyone awake was the requirement to take notes on the others' projects. But even that did little to stimulate them away from boredom, as I was the only one paying attention enough to take notes voluntarily. I had toyed with the thought that all the girls except Heather had chosen potato batteries so they wouldn't need to take notes.<p>

It was finally my turn, and I could tell that the audience would probably have to take a bus home. (Of course, they did take a bus here, so they'd be taking one home anyway. Their parents were probably in no condition to drive themselves home given their level of fatigue.) As I took my place, Heather leaned toward my ear.

"Good luck getting first place with a project like this."

"Go take your seat, Heather."

"Sure. It won't matter, since I'll be the one to walk away with first place."

I started my presentation as soon as Heather sat down with her father. "Is everyone listening?"

Everyone responded with a drowsy "Yeah."

"Okay. You've seen how potato batteries work and how well they power various gadgets. As you can see, I've set up a potato battery to a clock, which is drawing power from said potato battery. What I will pursue now is what will happen if a potato battery starts to sprout; will the power output be changed by a potato battery growing into a potato plant?"

A few intrigued eyebrows rose in the audience.

"Presently, the potato is outputting 1.1 volts of energy, which is enough to power the clock. Now, with a dab of this,..." I uncapped the vial and poured a drop of the muddy green liquid onto the potato, "...and we shall see how this potato fares in its power output as it sprouts."

Tiny sprouts began to emerge from the eyes of the potato. Monitoring the multimeter as the potato plant grew, I was about to provide a status update when I suddenly heard screaming from some of the girls.

When I looked back at the potato, I saw the plant was growing larger by the second up to the ceiling. Within ten seconds, it had reached the ceiling and pushed its way through the fiberglass tile ceiling with a stomach-shaking crunch.

All the scientists watched in shock at what had happened. Their gaze return to me, eyebrows tense in anger.

"Oh... spud." I edged toward the closest door, breaking into a run down the hall as the scientists pursued me on the cue from Dad. "Get back here!"


	8. Chell's Story: Chapter A3

**Chell's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Three

* * *

><p>I managed to find a closet and lock myself inside to escape my pursuers. They found my hiding spot and, upon finding that the door was locked, sent a few people to find a janitor to unlock the door. Meanwhile, I grabbed a small crowbar and an oxygen canister, and climbed up the shelves to an air vent. After prying the cover off, I crawled in with the mask over my face and made my way through the ducting.<p>

As I crawled through the winding tunnel, thoughts started passing through my mind. I didn't want to go back home; the girls were constantly pushing stories down my throat, and I was always getting in trouble at home and at school for trying to figure out why or for standing up to them. I finally decided that the girls needed to pay for what they had done to me for all these years.

I soon found my way to the place where Dad's big project was. Nobody was in that room except me. I had gone vent crawling during my weekend visit in February, and I had come across the big project that way. I had heard Dad talking about the risk posed to the facility by the project, as it would try to kill everyone whenever it was turned on. That's when my plan developed.

I snuck out of the duct close to the floor of the chamber. Remembering what he and the other scientist had said about a Red Phone, I went up to the Red Phone on the desk next to the entrance, cut the receiver cord with my teeth, then unplugged the base end and took it with me as I crawled through the ducts looking for the project's control room.

I had ended up in the project control room during my vent crawling, and I was able to find my way there easily with no one to find and stop me. Even though the computers were too complex to be operated by a nine-year-old such as myself, there was one switch clearly marked "Central Core power-up", which I assumed was the button I wanted.

When I pressed the button, the PA system chimed up. "Central Core power-up initiated."

I went out the door, locking it as I did so, and started making my way through the hall back to the lobby.

"Central Core power-up complete."

The soothing masculine voice was replaced by a mechanical feminine one.

"Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science Enrichment Center. The Enrichment Center would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any Aperture Science employee would like to opt out of this new voluntary test program, please remember: science rhymes with compliance. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with compliance? **Neurotoxin**."

Clocks appeared on the walls and started counting down from sixty minutes. A select number of vents started belching out thick green gas, leaving one clear path for me. I deduced that whoever it was that was speaking was forcing everyone to partake in testing.

Twenty minutes passed with me walking down the halls, guided by the presence or absence of neurotoxin. I came across the girls who were also being herded. They looked surprised to see me coming from a different direction than they did.

"What's going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where did you run off to?"

I didn't answer her. My only answer was to smile with bliss.

One of the other girls seemed to catch on. "Was that you who turned on the big project?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Why? We're all being hounded into these projects that Aperture is doing!"

"You really should know better than to force stories onto other people."

"But everything we've been telling you is true!"

"Wow. You still won't apologize, even in a situation like this?"

"We were never telling you tall tales; everything we've been telling you is true. Even if we were telling tall tales, that doesn't mean you should do something like this!"

"You already passed the point of no return long before you got to Aperture."

That's when we reached a large door. It opened as we approached it, revealing a vast array of sealed beds.

"I think this is where we're supposed to go."

We all went in, and empty pods opened up as we passed them. We climbed into different pods, and they sealed on top of us before we drifted off into long slumbers.


	9. Part 1, Chapter 6

**Part I: How it Started  
><strong>Chapter Six

* * *

><p>The passengers' reactions ranged from shocked to puzzled. The robots were especially disturbed by what Chelsea had read to them.<p>

"So, wait a minute." Captain Murphy was the first to speak. "Are you saying that you tried to kill your classmates because they were telling you stories about your past that you didn't believe?"

First Officer Grison was quick to pick up. "Are you sure that wasn't even a little bit extreme? After all, you put yourself in the same situation as them."

"Yeah, but it was worth it to get back at them for all the mental anguish they caused me."

Martha took a deep breath. "Not that it's unexpected from me, being labeled as a Morality Core, but that was inexcusable of you to start up the Central Core while your classmates were at Aperture."

"Well, it couldn't have been worse than why She flooded the place with neurotoxin."

Victor played with his dog collar. "Not that you'd believe any of us, but the girls were telling the truth about you, and we all have first-hand evidence to prove it."

"How would you know? Or how would anyone else know?"

Sam looked up from his book. "Well, it probably wouldn't make sense to the 129 other people in the chamber if we told you now."

"Well, someone's going to have to explain how any of you could have information on who I am and where I came from."

GLaDOS cleared her throat. "I suppose that someone would be me."

"Okay. Have at it, Gladdy."

She produced a small handheld screen. "Only if you refrain from using that name in reference to me."

"Alright."

She crossed Her legs as She scrolled through Her monitor. "Now, it's my turn..."


	10. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A1

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter One

* * *

><p>I was born on May 11, 1925 as Caroline Isabelle Breen to a wealthy family on the outskirts of Clayton, New Mexico. I was the oldest of four children, with my siblings being from oldest to youngest: David, Sonya, and Wallace. My father treated me like a brick, and Wallace was pampered like a prince. David and Sonya were raised just as kids should be raised, and they tried to help me with my struggles as much as they could.<p>

My childhood was fraught with locked antlers with my father, mostly from antics brought about by Wallace. My lifelong dream was to be an opera singer, but my father insisted that I pursue a career in medicine. My mother was willing to help me pursue my wishes for the operatic stage, but my father did tend to intimidate her out of doing so.

My life changed forever at the start of 1942. My mother was attacked by a bandit who stole her car after throwing her off a cliff. She only lived long enough for us to find her and for her to give me a Christmas gift: a red neckerchief with a poem written in Italian. (Anche se ho preso i corsi di Italiano a scuola, che non è mai stata una forza del mio.) The bandit was never identified, and after my mother's death, my father tried to force me into training as an army nurse to fight in World War II.

I decided that there was only one thing I could do. I decided to run away from home and start a new life somewhere else. I fled inside a railroad car with only one set of clothes, a sack of potatoes, Father's pocketknife and cigarette lighter, and my red neckerchief.

* * *

><p>I stayed hidden in the boxcar for seven days and seven nights. I had nothing with which to track the exact time; I kept track of night and day through a knothole in the door and scribed tallies on the side wall with the pocketknife.<p>

Finally, on the seventh day, my boxcar was opened, and I was spotted.

"Well... what do we have here? Looks like there's a hobo on this train!"

"Oh... spud." I jumped out of the boxcar and ran as fast as I could into the nearby city.

The man who had found me on the train didn't follow me into the city, but as I was scouting said city for shelter, I could hear police sirens echoing through the streets. I hid inside a dumpster when a police car passed by an alley through which I was walking, and a message on his radio strongly suggested that the man from the train had probably called the police to look for me.

"_Attention all units: be on the lookout. A railroad employee has reported a young female stowing away on his train, who is now hiding somewhere in the city. She has been described as white, in her late teens, approximately 5 feet 3 inches, and wearing a potato sack as a dress and a red neckerchief on her neck. If spotted, pursue and detain._"

I could hear my heart racing as the police car drove off. I had to find a way to avoid being captured. But as I sat in the dumpster, I started wondering how I was going to survive in this city. I had no idea where the hell I was, the police were after me, anyone who saw me could call the police on me, and there were scant resources on which to dwell.

It took several minutes of pondering to decide that anything that happened next would be better than returning home, even if it meant going to jail despite being on the edge of 17.

So, I climbed out of the dumpster, walked out of the alley, and wondered into the night street, pondering whether I should rob a bank as a means of getting jail time here.

I didn't get too far into my thought process before a car ran into me.


	11. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A2

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Two

* * *

><p>I wasn't sure if I was lucky or unfortunate to be still alive after the car hit me. I had been thrown up against the windshield, and when the car screeched to a halt, I had fallen back down the hood. I was still conscious, but I was having difficulty moving and breathing.<p>

The man got out of the car and stepped around front where I was. He checked the front of his car, and then he looked around for a moment before saying to himself, "Okay, I can hide this easily."

He opened the passenger side door, picked me up by the shoulders, and dragged me into the car, placing me into the seat and buckling me in before taking a large plastic sheet and placing it on top of me. I heard him walk back around, get back behind the wheel, and drive off.

Several minutes passed, and the car came to a stop followed by the driver talking to someone else.

"Welcome back, boss. How was the advertising seminar?"

"Ah, just another day at the office. Can't wait to see our next customers."

"Alright. You have a nice day."

"Sure thing."

The car started driving again, and soon the car stopped again, and I could hear the car doors opening and closing. The plastic sheet that was covering me was whisked off, and I saw that the car was parked in front of a building. It was still night, and no other cars were in the parking lot. The driver of this car was standing outside next to me.

He looked to be about six feet tall with neatly combed black hair and sparkling hazel eyes. He had on a very expensive suit, which almost blended in with the dimly lit pavement of the parking lot.

I was able to reach for my seat belt buckle and unfasten it, after which I struggled to hoist myself out of the car. The driver held out his hand, and I steadied myself against him.

"You alright there?"

"Yeah... I think so. Where am I?"

He paused as he assessed my attire. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I ran away from home last week, and I have no idea where I am."

"Well, right now, we're in Cleveland, Ohio." He seemed pretty laid back for someone talking to a girl who was half a country away from home and had had a run in with his car.

"Does that mean you're going to call the police on me?"

He gave a laugh loud enough to rival a dog bark from another yard. "Not if you don't want me to."

"Well, I don't have anything with me except this potato sack and neckerchief, and I don't have anywhere to go."

"Hm. Well, tell you what; if you want, I can let you stay here and take care of whatever you need me to. How's that sound?"

I toyed with the idea for a moment. "I guess it's a better option than going to jail. I'll stay if you tell me what this place is and who you are."

"Alright. I'm Cave Johnson, founder and CEO of Aperture Fixtures, the best damn shower curtain business in the country."

"It's good to meet you." Tension started to relieve with this man. "I'm Caroline Breen." We shook hands before a thought crossed my mind. "Um, do you think you could keep me away from the police? I don't want them to find me and take me back home."

He gave a light chuckle. "Girl, please; keeping police at bay is my specialty. Now, how about a quick tour of the place?"

I didn't know whether to be thankful or worried about him being skilled with dodging police, but I agreed to the offer of a tour. "Okay."


	12. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A3

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Three<p>

* * *

><p>Mr. Johnson escorted me to an observation room overlooking an assembly line.<p>

"So, Mr. Johnson, what led you to making and selling shower curtains?"

As we spoke, a large machine melted ingredients together in a furnace at the head of a conveyor belt.

"Well, Caroline, ever since 1933 when I was 13 years old, I made it my life's ambition to make and sell shower curtains." An extruder created a long ribbon of thin plastic, which passed through a cooling drum. "I drew much of my inspiration from my father."

The plastic was sliced into large squares. "Was he a salesman?"

One of the squares came up to a machine which punched several holes along one edge. "No, he wasn't a salesman; just a simple farmer. Or, a professor of farming at the local farm college; he never farmed a day in his life."

I just had to laugh. "Oh, Mr. Johnson!"

"But his theories on farming are the backbone of this company:" Another machine placed plastic rings in the holes.

"Do it from scratch!" The next machine placed hooks in the ringed holes.

"Spare no expense!" A hot stamp branded the company logo on the curtain.

"And _never_ cut corners!" The curtain entered a machine which sliced off all four corners. "Well, that's a corner-cutting machine; we obviously cut them there."

I let off a light laugh.

"The point is that we always do things the way my father did." The curtain was sprinkled with talcum powder before being spooled onto a rod and slid into a cardboard box. "And his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him."

"Well, those are some fine principles by which to work, Mr. Johnson."

"Indeed. Now, as I'm sure you can figure out, an operation like this requires a lot of work for a company president. We've only been in operation for about eight months, and I still need an assistant. I can hook you up here with a job and anything else you need. If you can prove yourself worthy, I might just get you promoted to my assistant in due time."

I don't know if I was really lucky to meet Mr. Johnson on that day, or someone had arranged for this to happen, or if I was being set up for something. But I decided to take what I could, and I accepted Mr. Johnson's offer. "I'll take the job, and I'll see if I can make it to the rank of being your assistant."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, Caroline."

* * *

><p>Mr. Johnson made good on his promise to keep me sheltered from the police. To make sure I would never be found out, he erased my last name from the database. I was receiving promotions at an unusual rate, more frequently than anyone else. A year after I was hired, he was awarded the Shower Curtain Salesman award of 1943.<p>

By January 5, 1944, Mr. Johnson had amassed a billionaire fortune, and I had been promoted to his assistant. The two of us were now trying to decide what to do with the enormous fortune we had accrued.

Mr. Johnson was the first to propose an idea. "I heard there's a salt mine in Upper Michigan that's up for sale. We could set up an establishment there."

"Yeah, we could. Any idea what its purpose would be, Mr. Johnson?"

He pondered for a moment or two. "Well, I got nothing."

But I did. "I might have something?"

"Yeah, what?"

"My brother, Wallace, had dreams of becoming a scientist when he grew up. My father (with whom I had a troubled relationship) at one point had suggested setting up a science research facility through his wealth, his connection with Wallace, and his connections with the US government. I'm thinking we should set up a science research facility in the salt mine, and maybe I can outdo my father and/or my brother."

"Hm. Yeah, nothing like experiencing a triumph over bad memories. We'll head up there tomorrow and see what we can do."

"Sounds like a plan."


	13. Part 1, Chapter 7

**Part I: How it Started  
><strong>Chapter Seven

* * *

><p>One of the passengers spoke up. "What did you say your name was when you ran away from home?"<p>

GLaDOS looked up, somewhat soured by the interruption. "I said it was Caroline Isabelle Breen."

"You said you had a younger brother named Wallace, didn't you?"

"I did. David was 3 years younger than me, Sonya was 7 years younger, and Wallace was 10 years younger."

"Was he the administrator of Black Mesa, who turned over Earth to the Combine after the Black Mesa Incident and became administrator of Earth?"

"Yes, that was him."

"I don't know if I should be intrigued or worried."

Chelsea shrugged. "For the time being, I'll go with intrigued."

First Officer Grison looked over at Rick. "You said your last name was Johnson, didn't you?"

"Yep. My daddy opened up this whole business of shower curtains, science, and adventures."

Hannah seemed amazed. "Really? You were the founder's son?"

"That I was. That I was."

I thought about asking a question, but decided against it.

One of the flight attendants had the same question that I did and asked it. "How exactly would doing science-based research mesh with making shower curtains?"

GLaDOS adjusted the mic on Her headset. "I had explained that I had hoped to outdo my brother at his lifelong dream of doing science by setting up my own science research facility. I'll expand on the topic later."

I scratched my ear. "Well, I guess we 'oughta letcha continue witcher readin' den."

"Yes, that would be a capital suggestion to fulfill." She looked back at Her reading.


	14. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A4

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Four<p>

* * *

><p>We arrived at the salt mine and were greeted by a small crowd of men and women wearing business attire. Mr. Johnson and I approached them, and they acknowledged our presence.<p>

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Cave Johnson, and this is my assistant, Caroline."

One of the men shook our hands. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you two. I'm Clark Reeves."

I gave him a pleasant smile. "So, do you know who will be overseeing the sale?"

"I'll be showing people around the mine, and if they decide to buy it, I'll send them to my boss, Mr. Brunswick."

"Okay." Mr. Johnson let off an energetic breath of air. "Let's see what this old puppy's got in store for us."

Mr. Reeves chuckled. "Well, so far, everyone who has stopped by here turned down the sale after being showed around the place. We might get lucky with you two, but I wouldn't hold my breath to that."

"The sooner we get through, the sooner we'll know." I brushed a lock of hair out of my face. "Shall we begin?"

"Very well. Follow me." He motioned us to a large wooden shack. "The elevator's in here."

* * *

><p>As we rode the elevator, Mr. Reeves explained the history of the mine to us. It had opened in 1875 and operated for 30 years until it was shut down for violating a new slew of work safety regulations. It reopened after upgrading to the new policies until all the salt that could be mined was mined. The company decided to sell the mine tunnels and search for another location.<p>

As few companies had use for a large network of tunnels that reached close to the bottom of the Earth's crust, nobody had tried to buy it before us. A movie company did consider using it to make a movie, but the sheer quantity of tunnels made the mine impractical for their plans.

But as we were shown around the labyrinth of tunnels, Mr. Johnson slowly became cemented to the belief that the abandoned mine would be perfect for my proposition of a science research company. It covered a lot of ground for any experiments that we could foresee, and its depth would easily hide whatever happened within, be it controversial research or anyone on the run from the law.

Of course, Mr. Johnson never made his true intentions known to anyone except me, and I was perfectly fine with it. After the tour and our meeting with Mr. Brunswick, we were able to buy the mine for $10,000. It was a really cheap deal because of how many previous companies had declined to buy it. The purchase made front-page news.

* * *

><p>We hired a team of construction engineers to start construction on the new business we were about to launch. I took to learning as much as I could about science while Mr. Johnson started recruiting personnel. Most of them were college dropouts who had been pursuing degrees in science andor medicine, as Mr. Johnson thought much of what colleges taught was useless.

Three years passed, and Aperture Science Innovators was finally opened for business on July 17, 1947. We were awarded the Best New Science Company Award from the Science and Business Institute of America that same year.

In 1949, we were ranked #2 among the Top 100 Applied Science Companies by the Mechanical Engineering World Journal. Naturally, since we were second place, I wanted to know who was in first place.

It didn't take too long to find the answer: the Black Mesa Research Facility in New Mexico. My suspicions were confirmed when I found that my father was its founder and administrator. The company's wide range of awards led Mr. Johnson to lock Aperture in a tight rivalry, struggling to beat Black Mesa at their own game. But not only did they outdo us in more ways than we could count, they didn't even know we existed.


	15. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A5

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Five<p>

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Caroline." The guard smiled at me as I drove the limousine up to the gate. "How did the venture go last night?"<p>

I gave a soft laugh as I presented my clearance badge. "Another day on the job."

"Well, that's good." The gate opened up in front of the limousine. "Have a good one."

"You, too." And with that, I drove into the parking lot, where the facility entrance awaited.

I was in good spirits. The date was November 12, 1958, and the last test shaft had been completed a month ago. Mr. Johnson and I had drafted up subjects to partake in testing various products which we had planned for the public.

The limousine was parked next to a medium-sized metal shed, and I escorted the passengers from the limousine into the shed, which was really an elevator entrance. The elevator had a capacity of 36 people, so the group of 24 (myself included) were able to fit inside.

"Alright, everyone get a sturdy grip on something, because this is going to be a fast ride to the bottom."

Everyone grabbed on to a number of posts inside the elevator as I shut the door and activated the elevator to head for the bottom floor.

The elevator whizzed down the shaft at an increasingly fast pace. The lighting in the elevator was poor, but none of us needed to see the look on each other's faces to know what we were thinking.

"How long will this thing take to reach our destination?"

"Assuming no one calls the elevator on any of the other floors, the trip should take two minutes."

The elevator continue to slide down the shaft until slowing to a stop at the bottom floor. There was a loud hiss as the doors opened, and as we stepped out onto the catwalk, spotlights in the large room lit up the company sign suspended above the catwalk ahead of us.

Mr. Johnson was at the other end, holding a bullhorn to his mouth. It was a special type of bullhorn which recorded any and all sounds it picked up for future playback. So far, only two such models existed of it, I myself being in possession of the other one.

"Welcome, gentlemen, to Aperture Science!" Mr. Johnson welcomed us. "Astronauts, war heroes, Olympians, you're here because we want the best, and you are it! So, who's ready to make some science?"

I brought my bullhorn to my face. "I am!"

Mr. Johnson laughed. "Now, you've already met one another on the limo ride over, so let me introduce myself: I'm Cave Johnson, I own the place. That eager voice you heard is the lovely Caroline, my assistant." I waved to the group. "Rest assured, she has transferred your honorarium to the charitable organization of your choice. Isn't that right, Caroline?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson!"

"She's the backbone of this facility; pretty as a postcard, too. Sorry, fellas; she's married. To science!"

We all enjoyed a good, hearty laugh before heading down the catwalk to meet up with Mr. Johnson.

* * *

><p>The lobby was buzzing with activity as receptionists were busy taking calls and using typewriters, future testers talking amongst each other in the waiting room, and scientists briefing said testers on their assignments. They paid little attention to Mr. Johnson as he got on his bullhorn.<p>

"There's a thousand tests performed every day here in our Enrichment Spheres; I can't personally oversee every one of them, so these prerecorded messages will cover any questions you might have and respond to any incidents which may occur in the course of your science adventure. Your test assignment will vary depending on the manner in which you have bent the world to your will." The newly arrived testers joined those who were already present.

"Those of you helping us test the Repulsion Gel today, just follow the blue line on the floor." Eight testers did so, waiting outside the elevator at the end of it.

"Those of you who volunteered to be injected with praying mantis DNA," he examined a note a scientist gave him, "I've got some good news and some bad news." Several testers looked to each other with unease.

"Bad news is we're postponing those tests indefinitely." They all sighed with relief. "Good news is we've got a much better test for you: fighting an army of mantis men." They seemed somewhat surprised. "Pick up a rifle and follow the yellow line. You'll know when the test starts."

As they armed themselves and headed off, Mr. Johnson and I met up with the Repulsion Gel team at the elevator. Everyone piled on, and I started the elevator to take them up to the catwalk leading to the Repulsion Gel testing area.

"Okay, I need everyone to wait here, while I gather up the necessary supplies and get the area ready for the test. Everyone got that?"

Various answers of approval reached my ears, and I walked down the catwalk to talk to get the necessary supplies.

* * *

><p>As I left to get the supplies and start up the gel pumps, I noticed three test subjects each entering their own door on a stretch of catwalk leading away from the engine room. As they entered, I could hear a message which Mr. Johnson had recorded coming from each of them.<p>

"If you cut yourself at all in the course of these tests, you might notice that your blood is pure gasoline. That's normal; we'll be shooting you with an invisible laser that's supposed to turn blood into gasoline, so all that means is it's working."

"If you need to go to the bathroom after this next series of tests, please let a test associate know, because in all likelihood, whatever comes out of you is going to be coal. Only temporary, so do not worry; if it persists for a week, though, start worrying and come see us, because that's not supposed to happen."

"Just a heads-up: we're going to have a superconductor turned up full-blast and pointed at you for the duration of this next test. I'll be honest, we're throwing science at the wall here to see what sticks; no idea what it'll do. Probably nothing. Best case scenario: you might get some superpowers. Worst case: some tumors which we'll cut out."

I did find it curious that none of those test subjects tried to turn around and walk away after hearing those messages, but I shook it off and headed to the engine room to get the gel pumps up and running.

The gel pump station was tended to by about a dozen personnel; some were monitoring computers and controls, while four more people were observing from a catwalk above. I gave the all clear to start pumping the gel into the Enrichment Spheres, and I was provided with a prototype of our latest invention: the Aperture Science Portable Quantum Tunneling Device.

With the system up and running, and the proper apparatus to navigate through the testing area, I returned to the crowd of testers, who then started on their way to the elevator into the testing area.

One of the testers took possession of the Device as Mr. Johnson got on the bullhorn. "They say great science is built on the shoulders of giants. Not here; at Aperture, we do all our science from scratch; no hand-holding."

It was difficult, but we were able to squeeze all ten of us - eight testers, myself, and Mr. Johnson - and the Device into the elevator, which sealed us inside and rose up into the Enrichment Sphere.


	16. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A6

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Six

* * *

><p>The elevator pulled up to the entrance, and lights began to flicker on until the interior was filled with light. We all squeezed out of the elevator, and Mr. Johnson got on his bullhorn.<p>

"Alright, let's get started! This first test involves something the lab boys call Repulsion Gel." He flashed a tin of Repulsion Gel in front of us. "You're not part of the control group, by the way; you get the gel. Last poor son of a gun got blue paint!" He didn't hesitate to laugh. "All joking aside, that did happen; broke every bone in his legs. Tragic. But informative! Or, so I'm told."

As the testers made their way into the chamber, Mr. Johnson headed off to an observation room overlooking the chamber. I stayed with the group to help them understand the test.

We entered the chamber, and I shut the door behind us. Once that was done, one of the testers looked to me. "So, what is Repulsion Gel, Miss...?"

"Oh, you can just call me Caroline; that's fine."

"Okay."

"Anyway, Repulsion Gel is something we've been working on as a dietary pudding substitute. It's a sweeter, slightly less non-toxic liquid form of fiberglass insulation. What we're hoping will happen is that after it is eaten, it will cause subsequently ingested food items to bounce off the lining of a dieter's distended stomach and back out his or her mouth."

"Wait-" another tester seemed unsettled, "-are you saying we're supposed to eat it?"

"No, no, that's not what we're testing right now; what we're doing is testing its bouncing capabilities. We also decided to utilize testing of our Quantum Tunneling Device in conjunction with the Repulsion Gel tests."

"Okay. So, where is the Gel, then?"

"We've painted the pit below with the Gel. All you need to do is jump into the pit, and it should bounce you to the other side. Who wants to go first?"

Everyone seemed hesitant to go. "What about what the boss said about breaking legs on blue paint?"

"He did say you weren't part of the control group, so you'll be getting the Gel. A helpful tip is to land on your toes as if you're wearing high heels; that way, you'll have some form of shock absorption if you don't bounce back out."

The tester with the Device stood at the back. "I'll go last to make sure this thing doesn't break."

"Good idea. I'll explain how it works once we reach the other side."

One subject decided to have a go at jumping the pit, and the Repulsion Gel successfully bounced him across the pit to the other side. The rest were quick to follow. As soon as I was the last person at the entrance, they were stuck on what to do next.

I was ready to explain the Device to them. "Okay. This is where you'll need the Aperture Science Portable Quantum Tunneling Device. The tunnel ends are able to be laid down upon white surfaces like the one next to you. Just aim the hose where you want the tunnel end to be, and press down one of the triggers. The top one will fire a green portal, and the bottom one will fire a pink portal."

The tester armed with the Device pointed it at the cement block next to him.

"And be careful; we don't know how strong the recoil is, so be sure to firmly grasp it."

Everyone braced for a strong recoil, and the handler pulled the top trigger. He seemed thrown back slightly, but he managed to stand his ground. "Now what?"

"There should be another cement block on the platform above us." I pointed in the appropriate direction. "You might need to back up slightly to get a good shot."

"I got it." He pointed the hose up and fired. The other end of the tunnel opened upon it.

"Alright. Now, you should be able to walk through it like a door. Only one person at a time can use the quantum tunnel, or else there will be a jam."

One tester went through, and there was an immediate reaction. "Whoa, that was cool! Check out the view from up here!" I could see him from below, and he pointed across the pit. "Is that the exit?"

"Yes, it is. You'll need something to hold down the button that opens the door to get out. The button won't shift under anyone's body weight, and it's too small to accommodate more than one person."

"So, what do we do?"

"You'll need to bounce across the pit to the exit door, and there should be a button that you can press." He traversed the gap, and pressed the button that was by the door. That's when a vent opened up above the patch of Repulsion Gel, dropping a Weighted Storage Cube, which bounced close by the testers.

"You can use that to hold down the button; it weighs in about 350 pounds, so it may take two people to move it."

Two subjects surrounded the Cube and reached under opposite edges. "One two three **lift!**" Their combined strength was enough to pick up the Cube, and they brought it through the tunnel onto the button, dropping it with a crunching thud.

"Try to set it down gently next time. I'll meet you all at the exit." I headed back out the entrance and followed the catwalk to where Mr. Johnson was talking to a group of scientists.

"I'm saying that your mentioning the control group can compromise the testers' willingness to go through the tests."

"I did it as a confidence booster. Besides," Mr. Johnson flashed his bullhorn, "I got this to provide them instructions as necessary."

"Okay, but using it to make prerecorded messages is unnecessary; after all, no one's going to be listening to them after you record them."

I popped into the office. "Sir? They're almost at the exit."

"Okay. Thanks, Caroline." We made our way to the exit catwalk.

Once there, the testers were on the catwalk, perturbed by what they had walked through seconds ago. "What's that?"

I was quick to answer him. "What, the incandescent particle field?"

"Yeah."

"It's a Material Emancipation Grill. It's designed to vaporize any unauthorized equipment that passes through it; for instance, the Aperture Science Weighted Storage Cube."

The tester seemed to understand, and we proceeded to the next test while Mr. Johnson got on his bullhorn.

"The lab boys just informed me that I should not have mentioned the control group. They're telling me I ought to stop making these prerecorded messages. That gave me an idea: make more prerecorded messages!" He pointed the bullhorn at the observation room we were leaving behind. "_I pay the bills here; I can talk about the control group all damn day!_"

* * *

><p>We made it to the next test without incident, and once we were inside the chamber, Mr. Johnson was looking at some notes that he had about the chamber.<p>

"For this next test, we put nano-particles in the gel. In layman's terms, that's a billion little gizmos that are gonna travel into your bloodstream and pump experimental genes and RNA molecules and so forth into your tumors." He didn't seem to be taking in anything he was reading from the notes. "Now, maybe you don't have any tumors. Well, don't worry; if you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren't wearing lead underpants, we took care of that, too."

Mr. Johnson left us in the chamber while the testers processed what he said. "Do you understand what he was going on about, Caroline?"

"It's a hypothesis that was formulated by some of the scientists." I had a small notebook in hand with a handful of some notes I had taken. "Research has suggested that cancer is caused by faults in some cells' DNA, and some of the scientists have theorized that by introducing genetic material that is akin to one's original DNA, the cancer cells can be reverted back to normal cells. The nanobots, once inside one's system, analyze the DNA of the host, picks out the cells which don't match the DNA profile (i.e. tumors), and insert the correct genes into them."

"What about the part with the folding chairs in the lobby?"

"Oh, that. While we were building the place, we made the plan to have the whole facility powered by a set of nuclear reactor cores. A number of folding chairs were involved in their construction, and after they were built, they were kept in the lobby until we bought new furniture. I'm guessing Mr. Johnson doesn't know if all the folding chairs were removed, but I didn't see any folding chairs in the lobby, so you should be fine."

"Okay. So, where do we begin?"

"Well, first, we need to get onto the ledge above this patch of Repulsion Gel. One person first; we'll need everyone else to be on standby to catch him if he falls from a high place. Any volunteers?"

One of the subjects came forward. "I'll go."

"Alright." I turned to the test subject with the Device. "I'll need you to be ready to open the tunnels when the time comes."

The tester had bounced up to the ledge on the far side of the chamber, and turned around to look at the ledge above the entrance.

I pointed out the painted walls on the two opposing ledges. "Green tunnel here, pink tunnel there." The Device wielder complied, and the tester on the ledge passed through.

Once on the opposite ledge, he called out to us. "We're going to need something to hold the button."

"Okay, someone else join him on the ledge. Everyone else follow me to the oscillating platform."

Once the testers had followed my instructions, I ordered a green tunnel to be placed on the white ceiling panel under which the platform would pass. After the order was executed, the two subjects hopped down onto the platform, and together, they pushed the Weighted Storage Cube off the platform onto the floor below. As they carried the Cube to the Gel patch and the green tunnel was put back on the Gel ledge, I gave a word of caution.

"Make sure you're careful walking on the Gel; take slow, shuffling steps until you're up against the wall, then jump on the count of three. If you step too hard or drop the Cube on the Gel, something's going to fly and someone will get hurt."

They heeded my warning, and they safely reached the ledge with the Cube in tow. After emerging from the tunnel, they dropped the Cube on the button. But they seemed confused as to what it did.

"You two stay where you are; everyone else follow me." I led them to the middle of the room next to the Gel patch. "Alright. Now, the button has exposed a panel on which we can now place a tunnel. Place a green tunnel up there, and be ready to catch one or both of the testers if they miss the Repulsion Gel. I'll hold onto the Device while they jump so you can move around easier. Three of you stand on one side, three of you stand on the other side."

I waited for everyone to assume the positions I spelled out, and then I gave the signal that it was safe for the other two testers to proceed through the quantum tunnel. They went through, and they made it to the offset room above.

I got out my bullhorn to talk to them. "Okay, go inside, and you should see a room with Repulsion Gel painted on the walls. If you jump against one of the Gelled walls, you should be able to bounce back and forth between the walls across the pit to where there is a Weighted Storage Cube. Bring it back across the pit (you shouldn't need to bounce off the walls for the return trip) and then drop it on the button inside. Remember what I told you about jumping up to the ledge while transporting the Weighted Storage Cube."

One of the subjects spoke up. "Didn't Cave say that those bullhorns function as tape recorders or something?"

"My bullhorn only works as a tape recorder while Mr. Johnson is using his. And at the moment," I strained to see inside the observation room, "it looks like he's talking to another scientist. Anyway, when the two are done up there, there will be another panel exposing up there. When the two subjects up there come down, make sure to direct them onto the ledge above the Gel patch so you can meet with them." I gave the Device back to the tester who had had it earlier. "Make sure there's a tunnel up there before you go up, and you should be able to reach the exit. Got it?"

"Yep."

"Good. I'll be waiting at the exit." And with that, I headed back out the entrance and headed to the observation room.

* * *

><p>When I got there, I could hear Mr. Johnson talking with the scientist.<p>

"Well, that should shake up the Grand Unification Boys, hm?"

"That's putting it mildly; those bones practically caramelized in the Gel."

"Yeah. But, hey, as long as they don't get covered in it, they'll be fine."

"The part with them bouncing off the walls will certainly get them covered in it."

"It'll only be dangerous if it comes in contact with the skeleton, so the Gel has to get by the skin and muscles before it reaches it, and by extension be all that dangerous."

"Still, we should probably give them the results of the test that we carried out." I opened the door just in time to see the scientist hand a stapled packet to Mr. Johnson.

"Ah, hello, Caroline. Have the test subjects finished the test?"

"Not yet, sir. But they're almost done. We should probably head out to the exit catwalk to meet them when they get out of the chamber."

"Alright. Let's get going, then."

The testers were out of the chamber quickly enough, and as I escorted them to the elevator, Mr. Johnson got on his bullhorn.

"Oh, in case you got covered in that Repulsion Gel, here's some advice the lab boys gave me:" He rummaged through the packet he had been given. "**Do not** get covered in the Repulsion Gel. We haven't entirely nailed down what element it is yet, but I'll tell you this: it's a lively one, and it does not like the human skeleton."

All of the test subjects appeared clean, and we all got into the elevator and started into the next Enrichment Sphere.


	17. Part 1, Chapter 8

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Eight<p>

* * *

><p>Several people were shuddering at what GLaDOS had been talking about. Based on what I had heard, death by Aperture testing seemed less appealing than death by any kind of methods concocted by the Combine.<p>

Chelsea, however, didn't seem fazed by what she had listened to. "I guess the tests were harder to carry out back then than they are now."

GLaDOS looked up to address her. "Actually, I've completed testing of the project in which you had been involved, so there isn't any further testing being conducted as of now."

"What about those-" she paused as she noticed all the people present "...never mind."

"I can beckon them here if you'd like."

"No, I'll wait."

"Suit yourself."

A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Hold up a sec."

GLaDOS looked down at me. "Yes?"

"Dat R'pulshen Gel stuff... y'said dat it could cause bone damage or sumtin'?"

"Technically, it was Mr. Johnson who said it. But yes, it can cause harm to the human skeleton. Why?"

"Well, when I'd found Chelsea in ma' field a while back, she look'd t'ave sum blue paint on 'er skin underneat sum soot."

"Yes, that was Repulsion Gel you were seeing. The reason why she hasn't suffered any skeletal injuries or deformities is that it doesn't harm human flesh."

"'K. I guess dass un'erstan'ble."

Chelsea looked over to GLaDOS. "Why would only the skeleton be harmed by Repulsion Gel? Why not the rest of the body?"

"The issue with skeletal damage was one of many various reasons why Repulsion Gel was removed from shelves, as teeth would melt when it was consumed. Other reasons included the fact that sometimes, subsequently ingested food items got lodged against each other when several were consumed one after another. Other times, they wouldn't exit the stomach the way they were intended; either being thrust further down the digestive tract instead of backwards, or by making its own exit which didn't exist before."

While She explained everything without care, several passengers reacted with disgust, one of whom actually threw up.

Victor got to his feet. "Cleanup on aisle 09."

GLaDOS typed up something on Her laptop, and a large pipe slithered down from the ceiling, which dropped a metal crate next to Victor. He unscrewed a lid from the top and produced a handful of cleaning supplies,which he used to clean up the bile that had been spilled.

While the mess was being cleaned up, GLaDOS turned back to Her reading. "Where was I?..."


	18. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A7

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Seven<p>

* * *

><p>The elevator stopped, and we started up the staircase into the test chamber as Mr. Johnson got onto his bullhorn.<p>

"All these science spheres are made of asbestos, by the way; it keeps out the rats." He started flipping through a small notebook. "Let us know if you feel a shortness of breath, a persistent dry cough, or your heart stopping. Because that's not part of the test; that's asbestos. Good news is the lab boys say the symptoms of asbestos poisoning show a median latency of 44.6 years; so if you're 30 or older, you're laughing. Worst case scenario: you miss out on a few rounds of Canasta. Plus, you forwarded the cause of science by 3 centuries!" He put the notepad back in his pocket. "I punch those numbers into my calculator, and it makes a happy face."

I laughed with several of the testers. "Oh, Mr. Johnson!"

As soon as we recovered from the laughter, the testers made their way inside the chamber. Before I could follow them inside, Mr. Johnson intercepted me from going in after them.

"Uh, Caroline, I'd like to talk to you privately if I could."

I hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."

He escorted me through a gate to a catwalk leading toward the second chamber in the Sphere. Once we were in the observation room overlooking said chamber, he locked the door behind him with us two being the only people inside.

"So, what did you want to talk about, sir?"

He sat down at the desk while I stood by the audio tape player. "Caroline, I couldn't help but notice that you had been talking the test subjects through how to solve the tests." His tone seemed to border on disapproval.

"Is that a problem, sir?"

"You said it, not me. I'm just concerned that by talking the test subjects through the tests, we might not be getting results from the tests we're doing."

"Oh?"

"I trust you're familiar with the three pillars of Aperture Science, Caroline?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."

"So, what are they?"

I gave a heavy sigh. "'Science without results is just witchcraft.'"

"That's one."

"'Get results or you're fired.'"

"'That's two.'"

"'If you suspect a coworker of being a witch, report him immediately.'" He waved his hand in a circle, indicating he wanted the last part. "'I cannot stress that enough; witchcraft will not be tolerated.'"

"There you go."

"I'm pretty sure we're still getting results even if the testers are being aided. After all, we're testing out the Repulsion Gel and the Aperture Science Portable Quantum Tunneling Device, not creating confusing test environments."

"You know, Caroline, if we're ever going to beat Black Mesa at their own game, we can't play by their own dull rules; otherwise, we'll be just as stupid as them or even more so."

"Well, if you had listened to what I had suggested when this place was built, and designed these tests to start out simple and _then_ get progressively complex, I wouldn't need to shepherd the testers through the tests."

"I doubt we'd have that kind of space when you look at all the other experiments that are done here."

"Maybe if I were in charge, you'd see the sense in my way of logic."

The discussion was interrupted by the sound of a door being pounded in the distance.

"See, Caroline? They don't need to be talked through the tests, do they?"

"Well, they needed to take their first step, and the test track design doesn't really allow for that without an aide." I opened the door to leave, and Mr. Johnson followed me.

As we reached the catwalk overlooking the second chamber, we could see that the Device wielder had tunneled up to a pillar close by the chamber. Mr. Johnson seemed enthused as the tester then shot a tunnel end into the chamber and entered it that way.

He was quick to turn the bullhorn on him. "HA! I like your style! You make up your own rules, just like me." The tester opened the door to allow the remaining testers inside. "The bean counters said I couldn't fire a man just for being in a wheelchair. Did it anyway; ramps are expensive."

Mr. Johnson and I walked down to the entrance door and shut it behind the testers, leaving them to find their way out of the chamber. As we arrived at the exit to wait for the testers, I noticed something concerning.

"Mr. Johnson, don't you think the testers will be in for a hard landing when they reach the exit?"

"Hmm... yeah, that might be a problem."

"There's nothing here that can break their fling when they get here."

"Yeah. Well, I'm sure one of us will think of something."

"Hopefully soon; we don't know just how long it will take them to figure out how to solve this and put the solution into action."

"And we'll have less time to ponder if we keep talking. So, let's start brainstorming."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."

As we started pondering on a solution, a small group of scientists entered the Enrichment Sphere through the exit.

Mr. Johnson was quick to address them. "Hey, what's happening?"

"Ah, there you are, sir. We're here to talk about the results we've collected from some tests we did on the fluorescent calcium."

"Okay, what have you got? Lay it on me."

"When the calcium is in the bloodstream, it remains in a state of small crystals. But certain brain impulses can briefly melt the crystals together, and when they re-harden, they can vitrify the affected part of the brain, particularly the frontal lobe. We brought this to the attention of one tester, and he almost instantly became paralyzed and collapsed dead on the floor. It turns out that visualizing calcium vitrifying the frontal lobe under stress will cause that exact scenario to happen."

"Okay, good to know. I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you guys could just be sure to-"

He didn't get the chance to finish, as the testers came flying in and landed in the crowd of scientists.

All of the testers survived without injury, as did the Aperture Science Portable Quantum Tunneling Device. But the scientists were severely injured by the sudden influx of people landing on them. Mr. Johnson decided to call in a squad of medics to take them to the medical wing, while the testers were escorted to the elevator.

Mr. Johnson and I followed after all the testers were on the elevator, during which Mr. Johnson got on the bullhorn. "Just a heads-up: that coffee we gave you earlier had fluorescent calcium in it so we can track the neuronal activity in your brain. There's a slight chance the calcium could harden and vitrify your frontal lobe. Anyway, don't stress yourself thinking about it. (I'm serious; visualizing the scenario while under stress actually triggers the reaction.)"

Everyone appeared too distracted with one another to have heard what Mr. Johnson said. We got into the elevator and started for the next Sphere.


	19. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A8

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Eight**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>I couldn't say with certainty as to whether or not there was any change in tolerance with regard to anyone in terms of riding in a crowded elevator. All I could say was that I myself was happy when we got off the elevator in the next chamber.<p>

Mr. Johnson got out his bullhorn as well as his notepad. "Now, if you're part of Control Group Kepler-7, we implanted a tiny microchip about the size of a postcard into your skull; most likely, you've forgotten it's even there. But, if it starts vibrating and beeping during this next test, let us know; because that means it's about to hit 500 degrees, and so we're going to need to go ahead and get that out of you pretty fast."

There was a sense of bemusement amongst the testers, which prompted me to check my clipboard for their designations. "It doesn't appear that anyone in this group is in Control Group Kepler-7, so you should be fine. You go on through the tests, and Mr. Johnson and I will meet up with you later."

I headed off onto another catwalk, following the path which Mr. Johnson had taken.

Once again, Mr. Johnson was talking to another scientist.

"Wow. This'll surely be worthy of a Nobel prize."

"Yes, but do you realize the implications this could have?"

"I could care less about that stuff. What I want to know is what we can do with it."

"Look, we've already talked about this; we don't know for sure if we've achieved it, but if we have, it could potentially destroy all of time."

"Seems like extreme thinking, don't you think?"

"That's what we'd get for doing these kinds of experiments."

"I think we should at least figure out how we got to this point in the first place."

"Yes, we should. Then we can take steps to prevent us reaching it again."

"Or we can find a way to improve ourselves in putting it to use."

"But the consequences of this discovery can be dire."

"Come on; the worst that could happen is that the Greeks would've won World War II."

"Which in and of itself can destroy all of time."

"But that wouldn't happen just by a test subject meeting himself on the testing track."

"But the two of them making eye contact could have the same effect."

"We don't know if this will or can happen; after all, just because the possibility exists of it happening doesn't mean it will happen."

"That may be true, but they've made it through the first chamber and are on their way to this one. Now hurry up and tell them what I've told you."

The door was thrown open, and Mr. Johnson nearly ran me down as he and the scientist raced down the catwalk.

"Hurry! They're almost at the door! Hurry!"

He shoved his bullhorn in the scientist's face. "I'm telling them; keep your pants on!" He aimed it at the testers assembled between the chambers. "Alright. This next test may involve trace amounts of time travel. So, word of advice: if you meet yourself on the testing track, don't make eye contact. The lab boys tell me that'll wipe out time. Entirely. Forward and backward. So, do both of yourselves a favor and just let that handsome devil go about his business."

I stepped onto the overlooking catwalk in time to watch the testers enter the next chamber. No sooner had I come to a stop, Mr. Johnson ran into me.

"Ooh, sorry about that, Caroline. I was going to head up to the last chamber and wait for the testers there."

"Okay." We both made our way up the catwalk, and soon made it to the last chamber.

* * *

><p>There were scientists running a quick survey of the chamber when we arrived, and I waited by the chamber entrance while Mr. Johnson talked to them. Armed with a pair of binoculars, I kept watch on the catwalk leading out the far side of the chamber below to see when the testers emerged. The discussion inside the chamber was what kept me from wandering down the catwalk to the chamber exit to wait for the testers.<p>

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if this was a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be? It's all about figuring out what this stuff can and can't do."

"I'm pretty sure someone's going to get hurt by this if it does go bouncing around."

"It'll hit the water spigot eventually, and then it'll stop bouncing."

"Yes, but it won't be possible to predict the trajectory between it getting covered in the Repulsion Gel and it reaching the water if it does get that far."

"That's why we've enlisted astronauts, war heroes, and Olympians; they have the athleticism to do these tests."

"But if they do get hit by the bouncing Cube, they could get hurt either from the Cube hitting them, being thrown into the wall, being covered in the Repulsion Gel, or a combination of the three."

"And if anything like that happens, it'll provide a learning curve for us and others to follow."

It was at that point that I saw the testers emerge from the chamber below us and start heading up the catwalk towards us. I turned my attention to Mr. Johnson. "The testers are coming!"

Mr. Johnson headed over to my position, took the binoculars, and looked for himself. "Alright." He turned to the scientists. "Okay, boys. Head up to the observation room, and Caroline and I will meet up with you once the testers show up."

The scientists clambered upstairs as Mr. Johnson and I both looked through half of the binoculars at the testers coming up to meet us, which was somewhat difficult, given that Mr. Johnson was six inches taller than me. But at the end of it all, the binoculars stayed together.

I don't know how long we had been using the binoculars, but it was long enough for Mr. Johnson's patience to wear thin. I didn't think the wait was that long, but Mr. Johnson was bothered to the point where he vented it out over the bullhorn when the testers made it to the last chamber.

"If you're hearing this, it means you're taking a long time on the catwalks between tests. The lab boys say that might be a fear reaction. I'm no psychiatrist, but coming from a bunch of eggheads who wouldn't recognize the thrill of danger if it walked up and snapped their little pink bras, that sounds like projection. _They_ didn't fly into space, storm a beach, or bring back the gold; no, sir, _we_ did. It's you and me against the world, son. I like your grit. (Hustle could use some work, though.) Now, let's solve this thing!"

We left the testers to get through the chamber and met with the scientists in the observation room. I passed through to the catwalk leading to the exit to wait for the testers to finish. But as soon as Mr. Johnson entered the room, they struck up a heated talk that was audible from the chamber exit.

"Sir, I don't think you understand just how big the risks are that you're taking with these tests."

"What's science without risks? No one ever forwarded science by adhering to what was safe."

"No one ever forwarded science through pursuit with reckless abandon."

"There's a first time for everything, and that first time will have me at the middle."

The sound of glass breaking was the only point where no one was talking.

"Okay. Look in the chamber and tell me if you would want to be in there trying to catch a Weighted Storage Cube covered in Repulsion Gel and risk being crushed by the weight, being thrown into a wall, or having your bones melt from exposure to Repulsion Gel."

"If it's for science, I would sure as hell do it."

"Would you put your assistant in that situation?"

"Who, Caroline?"

"Yes, her. Would you do that?"

"You'd have to ask her if you want an answer. Besides, it looks like the cube reached the water fountain; it's not bouncing anymore."

"Actually, it looks like they used quantum tunnels to get water on the Cube to make it stop bouncing. But anyway, someone could still get hurt."

"Why? The Cube's on the button. Now, all they need to do is get in the exit and Gel the Cube to get out."

"Once they're out and the Cube resumes bouncing around the chamber, how do you suppose we get it to stop bouncing?"

"It'll stop eventually; we don't need it to stop as soon as the test is finished."

"But the Cube could cause a lot of damage to the chamber before it reaches the water fountain."

"Sheesh. Why do people like you get so worked up over the smallest things?"

"Why do people like you have little regard over dangers that can happen?"

"Just because it can happen doesn't mean it will happen."

"Yeah, but the chance does exist of something dangerous happening."

"The chance isn't 100%, now is it?"

"No, but it isn't 0% either."

"If it isn't 100%, it's best to not have to think about it."

"It still poses a real danger."

"Danger is my middle name."

"I thought it was Arnold."

"So it is. So it is."

The testers got out of the chamber and walked past me to the elevator.

"But why is so much of this science dangerous?"

That was what finally prompted Mr. Johnson to point the bullhorn in his face. "Science isn't about _why_; it's about _why not_! '_Why_ is so much of our science dangerous?'? Why not marry safe science if you love it so much? In fact, why not invent a special safety door that won't hit you on the butt on the way out? Because **YOU ARE** _**FIRED!**_"

The last word echoed resoundingly through the Sphere, prompting the testers to vocalize their confusion. "Huh?"

Mr. Johnson left the observation room and headed to the elevator. "Not you, test subjects; you're doing fine."

The deafened scientist followed him. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Box your stuff. Out the front door. Parking lot. Car. Goodbye."

I was the last person to enter the elevator, but we didn't leave until I spoke with the terminated scientist. "You'll have to wait for the elevator to come back down."

And with that, we were off.


	20. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A9

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Nine**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The elevator ground to a stop, and everyone disembarked onto the catwalk except for Mr. Johnson, who got on his bullhorn.<strong><br>**

"Congratulations! The simple fact that you're standing here listening to me means you've made a glorious contribution to science! As founder and CEO of Aperture Science, I thank you for your participation and hope we can count on you for another round of tests. We're not going to release this stuff into the wild until it's good and damn ready, so as long as you keep yourself in top physical form, there will always be a limo waiting for you. Say goodbye, Caroline!"

I got out my own bullhorn. "Goodbye, Caroline!"

Mr. Johnson laughed. "She is a gem."

While Mr. Johnson headed back down to the testing area, I led the testers down to the main elevator. "Okay. Before we can let you back up to the surface, we need to take the Quantum Tunneler back downstairs. So, everyone get in the elevator, and we'll head downstairs to get it returned."

"Alright." We all piled into the elevator to return to the lobby and get the Quantum Tunneler back where I had picked it up.

Once that was done, the testers were escorted back up to the surface, where the limousine was parked. They were then driven back to the train station where I had picked them up earlier.

* * *

><p>Within a few years, Aperture started to decline. Our products became increasingly unpopular with the public, and in 1961, the area was condemned in response to a planned investigation from many federal agencies. Then in 1968, the US Senate launched a series of hearings into missing astronauts in which we were involved. All the while, Black Mesa started marketing our products (improved to meet safety regulations) under their name. Upon further investigation, I was able to find out why.<p>

When I found out about the Black Mesa Research Facility, I had reason to believe that my father and my brother, Wallace, had a hand in its founding. As a result, I enlisted the help of a spy to find out as much as he could about Black Mesa so I could outdo Wallace at his own game. By the time Aperture started its downturn, Wallace had been appointed as Black Mesa's administrator, and I found that our spy had been leaking Aperture secrets to Black Mesa. When I tried to get an explanation for his actions, the spy simply said that he was doing what was necessary to ensure Aperture's triumph over Black Mesa; I could never figure out how leaking secrets to one's opponent could augment one's battle position.

* * *

><p>It was 1971, and Mr. Johnson decided that with the investigations of Aperture concluded, it would be safe to get Aperture back up and running again. As we walked from the parking lot to the entrance, I started discussing the possibility of Aperture reopening.<p>

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure how we can do anything if we were to reopen Aperture."

"We'll just take more steps to make sure we won't get investigated by anyone."

"And how do you anticipate that will work?"

"Well, obviously, we had to appear at Senate hearings on missing astronauts, so..."

"I don't think anyone would even think to trek these grounds, given the horrid reputation the company has with the public."

"Well, it seems someone has done just that and more."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a body impression in the grass in front of the door."

"Hm." I saw something shiny in the grass, and I saw it was a pocket watch.

Mr. Johnson called the elevator, which didn't open up immediately. "And whoever left that body impression is probably inside right now."

I used the pocket watch to calculate the time it took the elevator to reach us from the time Mr. Johnson summoned it; that would indicate at which floor the intruder got off, and provide the best lead of finding out where they were and who it was.

Given that they had had a pocket watch, they probably weren't local.

The elevator reached us after 100 seconds, and I brought the elevator down to the appropriate floor based on that time. That floor was right above what used to be Test Shaft 09 where the Repulsion Gel testing had happened.

As we stepped out, armed with miner helmets, we could hear snoring coming from a corner of the cave. When we looked in the direction, we could see someone slumped against the rocks, who didn't respond to the light cast upon him.

Mr. Johnson was quick to walk up to him. "Hey! _Hey!_"

The man stirred, and as he became aware of our presence, he sprung to his feet and held a briefcase up to his chest.

He looked about six feet tall and was dressed in a suit and tie with a matching fedora over top a mess of dark hair that covered his ears. He was wearing glasses, and the skin around his blue eyes looked severely burned. It was clear that he had been taken by surprise.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing down here?" Mr. Johnson demanded.

The man swallowed hard before replying in a British voice. "I was... erm,... carrying out an... inspection of this... cave?"

I held the pocket watch in the beam of light from my helmet. "Is this yours?"

He searched his pockets for a moment. "Oh,... yes, it is. Thank you for finding it."

"It was right outside the door." I handed him the watch, and he put it in his jacket pocket. "Mind explaining why you're here, Mr...?"

"Pendleton. Wheatley Pendleton."

"Cave Johnson." He shook hands with Wheatley.

I was quick to follow suit. "Caroline Breen."

"Pleasure to meet you. Erm,... you don't... suppose I could borrow one of your torches, do you?"

I gave him my helmet. "Here you go."

"Thank you." He put on the helmet, removing the fedora as he did so. "Ah, that's better."

Mr. Johnson propped himself against the wall so he was facing Wheatley, and the two started talking while I listened.

"Alright, so, what are you doing here, Wheatley?"

"Is this Aperture Science?"

"What's left of it, yes."

"Oh." He seemed disheartened. "So, you were getting ready to take the place down, I take it?"

"Actually, we're trying to get the place back up and running."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, the first thing we need to do is build a new place here."

"Hm. You're going to need some engineers for that."

"Yeah, we will. Do you know any?"

"As a matter of fact, I actually have an engineering degree from Oxford University."

"Well, that's one step forward."

"Yep. Now, in case you haven't already figured out, I'm not from around here."

"I take it you're from England?"

"Yep. I flew in from London to Toronto three years ago, and I've worked as a petrol station attendant in Windsor since then before figuring out where this place was. I found out about this place while reading about the 1968 Senate hearings on missing astronauts in the papers, and I thought I might stand a chance making a living here."

"Well, if you want to put that engineering degree to good use, look no further than here."

I shrugged. "As if he had a choice."

We all enjoyed a good laugh, interrupted by a remark from Wheatley. "I don't get it."

Resisting the urge to laugh harder, I explained. "Mr. Johnson said to look no further than here; but, being underground in a dark cave, it's difficult to look further than here."

"Ohh... gotcha." He scratched the back of his head. "So, does that mean I'm employed here?"

Mr. Johnson didn't hesitate to answer. "You can count on it, Pendleton. Find a good place to stay, and I'll have you under a paycheck before you can say 'Brand New Aperture, here we come!'!"


	21. Part 1, Chapter 9

**Part I: How it Started  
><strong>Chapter Nine

* * *

><p>The passengers were lost for words. But Chelsea seemed quick to speak up.<p>

"Wow. I guess I was fortunate to have everything that I did have when I was put through testing."

I looked over at Wheatley. "Wuz dat you dat 'ad been sleepin' in da cave?"

"Yes, that was me."

One passenger looked up at GLaDOS. "Were you the one to start all of the bizarre projects that went on here?"

"All of the projects were inspired by Mr. Johnson; I simply gave him whatever help he needed."

First Officer Grison straightened his tie. "Did it ever occur to you that Aperture's research was dangerous and unethical?"

"It did. But I was afraid to question him out of fear that he would send me away."

Chelsea asked the next question. "Do you know why he started the whole practice of controversial experiments?"

"His argument was that science could advance much more quickly without having to worry about any kind of fallback from whatever research anyone could think to conduct."

Chelsea nodded. "I can understand the reasoning behind that, but I really don't think Aperture's approaches were a good idea."

A flight stewardess brushed a lock of hair from her face. "You know, with the investigations into Aperture during the 60s, I'm surprised nobody got arrested for what was going on here."

Rick gave a light smile. "Well, Daddy did serve two years in prison for public endangerment from 1968 to 1970; that was the only conviction they could get from the evidence they had, which was the failed Repulsion Pudding campaign."

Captain Murphy was stupefied. "If that's not leniency, I don't know what is."

Martha shrugged. "What can I say? It wasn't difficult for Aperture to cover up what they were doing."

GLaDOS took a deep breath. "Are we finished chatting now?"

Everyone nodded in approval.

"Very well. Let's resume..." She had Her reading back in front of Her.


	22. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A10

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A  
><strong>Chapter Ten

* * *

><p>It was February 25, 1978. Aperture had secretly reopened, and was attempting to restore itself to its former glory. But we had had to resort to hiring homeless people for testing. Having been a vagabond myself, I wasn't too pleased with the decisions Mr. Johnson was making. But as he said, beggars can't be choosers. (I ended up punching him in the throat for saying that.)<p>

"Are we there yet?" Mr. Johnson's son was sitting in the passenger seat of the pickup truck I was driving.

"For the last time, Rick, the more you ask that question, the longer it will take for the answer to be 'yes'."

"Hey, I'm just trying to pass the time here, Carrie. This drive can easily tucker anyone to sleep."

"I'm sure the 36 people crammed in the back would beg to differ. And don't call me 'Carrie'."

"I can't believe we managed to get that many people in the back of the truck."

"It's a big truck, but it is still something worth pondering in amazement."

"Would you say rounding up all of these recruits was a walk in the park?"

"In the literal sense, it was, but not in the figurative sense."

"At least I was there to help out. I can get anything done faster than you can blink."

"Look, Rick, just because it's your 27th birthday doesn't mean you're entitled to acting like James Bond."

"Maybe, but I'm sure Daddy's got something to say about what I can do when we get back."

"We've talked about this for six years; you are not allowed to take part in the experiments we're doing."

"So, then, why do you have homeless folks doing it?"

We finally reached the shed where the entrance elevator was housed. Rick and I disembarked and herded the people out of the pickup into the elevator.

"Alright. Everyone take a deep breath and hold it." I shut the door and started the elevator to go down.

* * *

><p>The elevator reached its destination, and everyone got out. A scientist wheeled a cart up to us, where a thick stack of papers rested.<p>

He produced a pen and a number of papers with signature slots. "Alright. I need everyone to form a line and sign a spot on this contract."

Everyone followed his instructions, but I had to take Rick out of the line.

Once all the signatures were collected and the scientist was gone, Mr. Johnson was standing in front of us, bullhorn in hand.

"Greetings, friend. I'm Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Science. You might know us as a vital participant in the 1968 Senate hearings on missing astronauts. And you've most likely used one of the many products we invented but that other people have somehow managed to steal from us." He started to advance towards us with mounting anger. "Black Mesa can eat my bankrupt-"

I grabbed him by the wrists. "Sir, the testing?"

He begrudgingly withdrew. "Right. Now, you might be asking yourself 'Cave, just how difficult are these tests? What was in that phone book of a contract I signed? Am I in danger?'. Let me answer those questions with a question: who wants to make sixty dollars?" He fanned out six tens in his free hand like a hand of cards. "Cash." Several hands went in the air.

He gestured to the catwalk behind him to our left. "You can also feel free to relax for up to 20 minutes in the waiting room (which is a damn sight more comfortable than the park benches most of you were sleeping on when we found you). So, welcome to Aperture; you're here because we want the best, and you're it." His face was quick to crack into a smile. "Nope, couldn't keep a straight face." He returned to his unenthusiastic cynicism. "Anyway, don't smudge up the glass down there. In fact, why don't you just go ahead and not touch anything unless it's test related."

I led the group to the waiting room while Mr. Johnson got the testing track ready.

Everyone took seats in the waiting room, and Rick made small talk with the recent acquisition of people while I read over a letter I had found in Mr. Johnson's office the previous week.

_CONFIDENTIAL_

_October 17th, 1976_  
><em>Re: Human Enrichment &amp; Testing Initiative; Resource Acquisitions<em>

_1.) "Low Risk" Human Resource Acquisitions_

_a.) Hobos and Tram__ps:_  
><em> Lives spent wandering aimlessly, cowering before authority, and drinking concussive amounts of home-distilled potato alcohol make hobos the perfect Human Enrichment test subjects. The hobo questions nothing, will follow orders if fed, and (like all hobos) has a restless, wandering heart.<br>(Note: The wandering heart of the hobo should not be confused with Drifting Heart Syndrome, which several transients contracted during testing.)_

_b.) Child Orphans and Fo__undlings:_  
><em> Deep-rooted abandonment<em>_ issues leave most orphans highly susceptible to shame-based psychology. (For a complete list of opportune moments to obliterate the esteem of test subjects, please consult Training Video #89-D: "You'd Perform This Test Better if You Had Parents") Recent advances in the use of scorn, flattery used in an ironic context and naked contempt as motivational tools have yielded similarly profitable results._

_c.) Psychiatric __Patients:_  
><em> Past experience<em>_ shows these fellows are simply not shy at all about carrying on, disrupting tests, and defecating just about anywhere that pleases them. Frankly, it is off-putting, and small wonder why Aperture-brand mental institutions are being phased out in favor of more orphanages._

_d__.) Seniors:_  
><em>Frail, brittle hands make holding science devices difficult. Mos<em>_t were born before the advent of science, and can become confused and disoriented when asked to participate in relatively simple tests: teleportation, invisibility, adjusting esteem levels of orphan children._

It was perturbing the way Mr. Johnson thought of other people when he wrote this. I put the letter back under the papers on my clipboard, and we waited for Mr. Johnson to beckon us to the tests.

* * *

><p>It was about ten minutes before Mr. Johnson returned. He showed the way to the rising catwalk within view of the waiting room entrance, and everyone piled on board.<p>

Before the gates could close, I noticed Rick was also in the group. "Rick, we've already told you that you are not going through any of these tests."

He wedged into the back end of the catwalk. "I'm going in here even if it kills me."

Mr. Johnson leaned on the railing. "That's why we don't want you testing in here, son; we don't know if you'll get out alive."

"Yeah, but I do know how to get through the tests, unlike these gents."

"All the more reason not to let you in there."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's my job."

Mr. Johnson glared at me.

"Come on; they're never going to figure it out on their own."

While the two of us were distracted, Rick swiped my bullhorn and called up to the winch operator. "We're ready to head up now!"

Before Mr. Johnson could reach his son, the gate closed and we were hoisted up to the catwalk above, the rising walkway filling in the missing gap.

The gates at both ends opened up; my end led to the supply offices and other testing areas, and Rick's end led to the Propulsion Gel tests. I headed over to the supply room, and 28 recruits followed me there. Mr. Johnson gave the remainder the order to wait for me to return.

* * *

><p>Before I could collect the supplies for the Propulsion Gel testing, I needed to send the 29 recruits present to the other testing areas. 20 went through a tunnel leading to the other test shafts to carry out the tests set up there. The remaining nine testers followed me into the supply room.<p>

Behind one of the cabinets in the supply room was a hall leading to four doors. I sent the recruits into the first three doors, three for each door. As they entered, a message played from a speaker next to the door.

"If you're allergic to peanuts, you might want to tell somebody now because this next test may turn your blood into peanut oil for a few minutes. On the bright side, if we can make this happen, they're gonna have to invent a new type of Nobel prize to give us, so hang in there."

"The average human male is about 90 percent water. As far as we're concerned, that's a little extravagant. So, if you feel a bit dehydrated in this next test, that's normal; we're gonna hit you with some jet engines and see if we can't get you down to 50 or 60 percent."

"Alright, we're working on a little teleportation experiment. Now, this doesn't work with all skin types; so, try to remember which skin is yours, and if it doesn't teleport along with you, we'll do what we can to sew you right back into it."

After they had gone through, I went in through the fourth door, which housed the drydock of a new icebreaker ship, the _Borealis_. It would take 20 years to complete, but when it was done, we'd be able to teleport anything anywhere in the universe, maybe even another dimension. (The teleporter was being tested in an adjacent room.)

The progress being made was a surprise to me; the engineers were working faster than I expected. Now, it seemed that it would only take 15 years to complete.

I saw the lead engineer on the ship's bow. "Hey! Keep up the good work, Mr. Pendleton!"

He smiled as he adjusted his glasses. "Sure thing, Miss Caroline!"

I left the room uplifted. The tone of his British voice was one of which I thought I would never grow tired.

* * *

><p>I grabbed all the supplies I needed; 8 pairs of ankle braces and a Quantum Tunneler. The Quantum Tunneler was more compact, but the basic design was unchanged. I instructed the recruits to put on the ankle braces, and after they did so, they piled into the elevator leading to the Propulsion Gel tests.<p>

Rick refused to be left behind, and we couldn't force him out of the crammed elevator before it closed and sent us up into the Enrichment Sphere.


	23. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A11

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Eleven<p>

* * *

><p>The smell of rotten fish was overwhelming, but the elevator finally opened up, allowing us to resume breathing.<p>

Mr. Johnson got on his bullhorn. "The testing area's just up ahead; the quicker you get through, the quicker you'll get your 60 bucks." He looked over to me. "Uh, Caroline, are the compensation vouchers ready?"

I showed him the clipboard. "Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."

He realized his bullhorn wasn't turned off, and he proceeded to do so. He left for the observation room while the testers, Rick, and I got to work on the test at hand.

Rick, who had the Quantum Tunneler, was about to start laying down portals. "Just a moment, Rick; I still need to explain what the testers need to do."

"Alright. You go right ahead, princess."

"Okay." I got out a tin of Propulsion Gel. "What we're doing here is testing out an old invention of ours called Propulsion Gel."

"What's that?"

"It was one of our attempts at creating a dietetic pudding substitute. It's a sweet, largely non-toxic liquid form of fiberglass insulation. In theory, after it was eaten, it would increase the velocity of any food that followed it through the digestive tract, leaving the body no time to absorb calories. It was pulled from shelves after it was discovered that digestion plays several crucial roles in the digestive process, such as breaking food down into small, manageable chunks before it is violently expelled from the human body."

"So, does that mean we have to eat it or not?"

"No, we don't want you to eat it."

Rick walked over. "No, we're doing figure skating with it."

"I suppose that's one word for it. Anyway, Rick, I need you to create a tunnel up to the platform above us."

"Yes, ma'am." He fired a purple tunnel on the ceiling above the platform, and a red portal on a nearby wall, barely missing my face.

"Could you try not to aim it at someone else, Rick?"

"Sorry about that."

"Okay." I walked over to the tunnel on the wall. "I need one of you to go through the tunnel, which will lead up to the platform."

There was a moment's pause before a bearded man stepped forward.

"Alright. Just sit down on the floor and put your legs through, then just slide in and be ready for a good landing."

He did as I instructed, and he landed safely, on the platform above us. As Rick repositioned the purple portal below the Propulsion Gel pipe, I turned to the tester above.

"Wait for everyone to get off the stripe on the floor, and then press the button."

He pointed to the pedestal button next to him while everyone got off the stripe on the floor. "This one?"

"Yeah, that one." I turned around to make sure everyone was clear. "Go ahead."

Upon the press of the button, Propulsion Gel cascaded across the floor, creating a slick, orange runway in the middle of the area leading up a ramp and over a pit.

"Alright, stay up there for now; I tell you when you can come down. Everyone else walk across the Gel so you can get a feel of how to walk on it."

They crossed the strip, and while they did struggle to balance themselves, nobody fell over.

Rick walked over to the tunnel entrance at the foot of the Propulsion Gel path. "Alright, I'll do all the dangerous stuff so you guys don't have to."

Everyone was emphatic to agree to his plan, and he charged up the ramp into the hallway on the other side.

Once there, he fired a purple portal on the wall next to him before aiming a bullhorn across the pit. "Okay, I'm gonna need two of you to come on through the tunnel; I'll need your help shortly."

Two men walked in, and I followed after them. Once on the other side, I realized that Rick still had my bullhorn.

"I don't remember you being issued with ankle braces, Rick."

"Oh, I swiped a pair while you were in the _Borealis_ drydock." He walked to the hallway entrance over the pit and placed a red portal under the Propulsion Gel pipe.

"Alright. You folks might want to stand clear for a bit." Once they were out of the Gel's path, he pointed my bullhorn at the tester on the platform. "Fire away!"

The tester on the platform complied, and another Propulsion Gel runway was paved.

"I'll run across, and you two can take care of the next part." He took off across another pit and landed in an isolated room.

After placing a red portal on the wall near him, he beckoned the two testers through the tunnel. I watched as the testers carried a Weighted Storage Cube through a tunnel out of a sealed area, then tunneled back to my position with the Cube in tow. Rick stayed ahead of them to make sure they didn't lose control.

We all tunneled back to the rest of the testers, and I directed the Cube to be placed on a Button on the floor, which raised the ramp higher.

"Could we have just had one person stand on the Button instead of putting a Cube on it?"

I took a deep breath. "No, that wouldn't have worked; the weight of one person wouldn't be enough to activate the button, and the Button isn't big enough for more than one person. It was designed with those objectives in mind."

"Oh, okay."

Ricked charged across the Gel and up the ramp, reaching the exit platform.

As he got to work placing the next portal, I turned to the tester above me. "You can come down now."

He hopped down as I told the group, "Alright, now, watch closely what Rick does next up there."

Rick came in through the tunnel, walked along the dry floor to the foot of the ramp, and then charged down the Gel path through the tunnel. The testers watched in awe as Rick flew straight up toward the ceiling, pressed a button up where he stopped, and fell back down before reappearing next to us.

"How did he do that."

"It's possible because of how tunnels affect forward momentum. Or to be more precise, how they don't."

"How they don't?"

Rick gestured for the testers to enter the tunnel, and they crawled through one by one, with me and Rick bringing up the rear.

Once through, I tried to clear things up a bit. "Momentum, which is a function of mass and velocity, is conserved through tunnels."

They still seemed confused until Rick spoke up. "Speedy thing goes in, speedy thing comes out."

"Alright, I got it now."

And with that, they all headed out the open exit door.

* * *

><p>Mr. Johnson was waiting for us on the catwalk. "I'd like to talk to Caroline and Rick alone for a second. You all go ahead and wait at the next test."<p>

They headed down the catwalk while Rick and I were escorted into the observation room above.

Mr. Johnson shut the door behind us and took a seat at a desk in the room. I sat down in another chair while Rick leaned against the wall next to a painting of me and Mr. Johnson.

"That's a mighty fine painting you got there, Daddy."

"Indeed it is, son. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about what Caroline and I have told you about taking part in these tests."

"Yeah. I don't think you two ever agreed on why I shouldn't be doing these tests."

"That may be true," I stood up and walked around the desk, "but you really shouldn't be here."

"In case I haven't told you already,-"

"Yes, you've told us why you don't think either reason is enough for you not to be here."

"Yeah, you had said it was too dangerous for me to be doing this, and Daddy said that I wouldn't create accurate results from the tests."

"You said that my reason was a weak one because your father pushes boundaries, and if he can do it, you should be able to do it as well."

"And with my reason, you had the capacity to figure out the tests unaided, and if the tasks that required more than one person didn't, you could carry them out."

"And therefore, you'd be generating some results, which (even if skewed) would be better than no results." I put a hand on Mr. Johnson shoulder and shook the hair out of my face, our poses almost matching those in the painting across from us.

"Yeah, so, I'll be downstairs getting the testers adapted to the testing environment." And he turned around and left the room, leaving me and Mr. Johnson alone.

"He does have a point, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"The tests don't really offer much of a learning curve _per se_."

"That's ridiculous; we're learning a lot about science with these tests."

"I mean for the testers. They need to familiarize themselves with what they're confronting before they can enter challenging environments."

"Caroline, if we did that for the quantum tunneler testing, there wouldn't be any space in the mine for anything else."

"The shafts reach over 9,000 feet into the ground in a high elevation state; we shouldn't have a problem with physical space."

"Do you expect me to believe that we can have a track of 100 chambers in here? That'll sure get the attention of the outside world."

"I doubt 100 chambers would be necessary for training test subjects; maybe 10 or 12 chambers would be enough."

"That's still a hefty number, Caroline."

"It's all about patience, Mr. Johnson; after all, Aperture wasn't built in one day."

"Yeah, but none of the other experiments have the test subjects sitting through lectures about what they're testing, do they?"

We continued talking as we left to meet up with the rest of the testers. "No, but that's not what I'm saying should be done with the quantum tunneling tests. I'm just saying we should start simple and build up progressively to facilitate the tester's navigation through test chambers."

"But the training tests wouldn't providing results. And if they don't produce results, is it really science?"

A loud metallic bang echoed in the distance; we saw that all the testers had reached the exit elevator, and we made our way through the gated catwalks to them.

Mr. Johnson got out his bullhorn to talk to them, but ended up playing a recorded message by accident. "Great job, astronaut, war hero, and/or Olympian!"

"Oops. Wrong button."

"With your help. we're gonna-" He pressed the record button, and a rasping squeal split our ears.

Mr. Johnson seemed confused for a moment. "Is this on?" He tapped the mouthpiece. "Hey! Listen up down there! That thing's called an elevator, not a bathroom!"

I finally had a chance to answer his question. "We're still doing science, sir."

The elevator ride passed by quietly.


	24. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A12

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Twelve<p>

* * *

><p>As soon as the elevator door opened, Mr. Johnson pushed himself out and nearly tumbled down the stairs. He recovered himself and got onto his bullhorn.<p>

"If you're interested in an additional $60, flag down a test associate and let them know. You could walk out of here with $120 weighing down your bindle if you let us take you apart, put some science stuff in you, then put you back together good as new."

Nobody volunteered for the offer; in fact, none of the testers appeared to have even heard Mr. Johnson at all. Rick led the testers through the chamber while Mr. Johnson and I walked over to the exit to wait for the testers there.

We entered the gate, locking it behind us, and I leaned on one of the railings before letting off a long sigh.

Mr. Johnson stood behind me. "What's on your mind, Caroline?"

"I think we have a difference of opinion on how this place should operate."

"Yeah, we do. Not to mention a huge difference in age."

"What do you mean? I'm only five years younger than you, sir."

"That's still a pretty big difference, Caroline."

"What are you getting at, Mr. Johnson?"

"What I'm saying is if you think this place could be run better, maybe you should take up running the place after me."

"Why me?"

"Who else would be able to hold up to this kind of job?"

"Well, you don't seem to be able to, Mr. Johnson."

"Come on, Caroline; I'm capable of operating this business."

"Then why are we enlisting vagabonds to do clandestine experiments, even though we had once used high society people for clandestine experiments?"

"Caroline, if I wasn't capable of running this company, it would completely fall apart."

"You mean it hasn't already?"

"We're standing inside a giant sphere made of asbestos; I'd say it hasn't collapsed."

"The company had already filed for bankruptcy, and it doesn't look like we'll ever recover."

"Black Mesa's been stealing our inventions; that's why we haven't been moving forward."

"We haven't been moving forward because our research conflicts with the law."

"This company will get back to success, even if it kills me."

"I'm sure if the effort killed you, the company would die with you, sir."

"Not if I have a successor, Caroline."

"Who's going to operate Aperture when you're gone? Rick?"

Before he could answer, Rick came flying in and landed right behind me. He somersaulted into the elevator, but got back out to catch the rest of the testers coming in.

After everyone made it into the elevator, Mr. Johnson got out his bullhorn. "In case you're interested, there's still some positions available for that bonus opportunity I mentioned earlier. Again, all you gotta do is let us disassemble you. We're not banging rocks together over here; we know how to put a man back together. So, that's a complete reassembly; new vitals, spit-shine on the old ones, plus we're scooping out tumors. (Frankly, you ought to be paying us.)"

Again, there was no response from any of the testers. Mr. Johnson and I boarded the elevator and started it heading up and out.


	25. Part 1, Chapter 10

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Ten<p>

* * *

><p>Rick had been quietly laughing to himself. "Ah, good times. Good times."<p>

Chelsea looked over at Rick. "I don't know which is worse; your dad's relentless quest to carry out dangerous experiments, or the fact that you actually liked going through the test chambers."

One passenger brushed something from her eye. "What I want to know is who thought it was a good idea to take in homeless people for carrying out inhumane experiments."

GLaDOS passed Her tongue between Her lips. "None of the people at Aperture thought hiring homeless people was a good idea, but Mr. Johnson didn't have much other choice."

Victor ran his fingers through his hair. "Why would anyone want to be taken apart and put back together?"

"I really don't have an answer as to why that program was initiated." GLaDOS played with Her headset cord. "Nor do I have an answer as to whether or not that program even existed."

"So, why was he offering a doubled take-home payment for undergoing disassembly and reassembly?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say he may have been looking for a means of taking out his frustration over Aperture's downturn."

Martha massaged her face. "Would you mind explaining why you didn't try to keep the place shut down after all the investigations? Or at least try to leave the company?"

"Like I said, Aperture had been my home ever since I ran away from home in 1942. I would've become a vagabond once again without Aperture."

"You could've just looked for another place to work and another place to live."

"But then I would've been linked back to Aperture and probably arrested and/or deported back to New Mexico."

"At least you'd be back with your family."

"I'm sure going back would've been worse than before I ran away."

Wheatley was polishing his glasses. "Why would that be?"

"It had been almost 30 years since I left New Mexico, so I wouldn't have been able to find any of my family members if I did return."

"Yeah. That wouldn't seem like a good solution."

"No, it wouldn't. Anyway, back to my reading..."


	26. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A13

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Thirteen<p>

* * *

><p>The elevator stopped and opened up, allowing us to exit. I was the first one out, and Mr. Johnson was the last one out. We headed down the catwalk while Mr. Johnson got on his bullhorn.<p>

"Thank you... (I can't believe I'm thanking these people) ...for staggering your way through Aperture Science's Propulsion Gel testing. You've made some real contributions to society for a change, and for that, humanity is grateful." The recruits picked up their $60 payments at the desk. "If you had any belongings, please pick them up now; we don't want old newspapers and sticks cluttering up the building." I led the group into the elevator. "For many of you, I realize $60 is an unprecedented windfall, so don't go spending it all on... I don't know. Caroline, what do these people buy? Tattered hats? Beard dirt?"

My only response was to slam the elevator door in his face.

I started the elevator to head back to the lobby. "Does anyone need to gather any belongings from downstairs?"

There were various negative responses among the group.

"Alright. Before we can get you back outside, we need to return the equipment to the lobby. Just stay in the elevator (without using it as a restroom) while the testing apparatus is returned to the rightful designations. Rick, if you could stay here and make sure that they don't get into any trouble."

"Sure thing, princess."

I took possession of the Quantum Tunneler and the ankle braces from the recruits, then headed upstairs to the storage room to put them back where they belonged.

After that was done, I returned to the elevator and brought everyone back to the surface.

* * *

><p>As I expected, Aperture continued to plunge deeper and deeper into financial turmoil. Black Mesa continued its prospering work, and our spy continued his mysterious actions there. The only interruption in his routine was to tell me about my father's death in 1979. He had moved to Los Angeles following his retirement from Black Mesa, and was flying to Mexico City on a vacation trip. The plane landed on the wrong runway, and the plane crashed into a parked truck on the runway. Only 16 of the 88 people on board survived, and my father wasn't one of them.<p>

With the ever constricting financial situation that Aperture was facing, Mr. Johnson opted to mandate test participation for all employees. (The sole exceptions were me, Rick, and the _Borealis_ work crew.) While the tests made some degree of recovery in terms of qualitative analysis, the Aperture Science personnel started making threats of resignation, which were only quelled by Mr. Johnson's refusal to let anyone leave the facility and by the fact that no one had managed to find any alternative line of work outside of Aperture.

* * *

><p>It was 1981, and Mr. Johnson was slowly starting to lose his sanity. I remember one day when I walked past his office and heard him arguing over the phone.<p>

"You can't tell me what to do! I'm the boss; you listen to me! ... You think being the bean counters give you the right to do whatever the hell pleases you?! Because it doesn't. Now, you listen- ... Hey, as long as Aperture is under my command, you follow my rules! You got that? ... Okay, you know what? If you're going to be stubborn like this, I'm just going to increase what I asked for. ... Oh, you bet it'll be an order of magnitude. In fact, since you're against seven dollars worth of moon rocks, I'll make it **seven** orders of magnitude! ... Yeah, that's right; that means $70 million worth of moon rocks. ... We'll get this company moved forward if it kills me. ... We'll see... about _that!_" The receiver slammed onto the hook with huge force.

I wasn't sure whether or not to open the door to investigate, but before I could decide, Mr. Johnson barged out and nearly ran me down.

"Whoa! Careful there, Caroline."

"What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

"I could hear you talking on the phone through the door."

"Oh, that? I was placing an order for moon rocks."

"And what are we going to do with moon rocks, sir?"

"I figure we'll make them into a Gel and see what we can do with it."

"Are you getting moon rocks for the simple reason of proving that the 'bean counters' can't tell you what you can or can't do?"

"Check's in the mail."

"You really need to think over your plans more thoroughly before implementing them."

"We need to get things done quickly if we ever hope to move this company forward."

"Yes, but we need good plans if we are to have any hope of them working. You can't make decisions on impulse."

"Hey, listen, Caroline. I'd love to stay and talk, but I have some stuff I need to take care of."

"But, sir,-" He took off down the hallway before I could finish.

* * *

><p>Mr. Johnson had indeed purchased $70 million dollars worth of moon rocks, which he secretly ground up and made into a Gel. Due to the heavy amount of dust produced from his actions, he quickly fell ill. Aperture's physicians performed tests to see if and how he could be treated, and how much longer he had to live. They were all medical school dropouts, so they couldn't agree on whether or not his illness was terminal. One of them, an MIT dropout named Craig Rupert, found evidence of scarred alveoli and decided that he had no more than eight years to live.<p>

Mr. Johnson refused to accept this, and began to formulate a plan to live past the eight years that he was told he had left in the world. In 1982, I, along with a handful of other scientists, were summoned to his office, where he laid out his plan. He had been hooked up to life support equipment to aide his breathing, on account of the constant threat of his alveoli rupturing and filling his lungs with blood, and was therefore confined to using a wheelchair.

"Gentlemen (and Caroline)," he was interrupted by a cough, "as I'm sure you've already been made aware, the doctors have given me until 1989 to live." Another coughing fit. "As such, I have taken it upon myself to lay down a three-tiered plan to guarantee the continued success of Aperture Science far into the fast-approaching distant past."

We all looked around with confusion on our faces.

Mr. Johnson fished out a packet of papers before coughing again. "So, the research program is spelled out on the following three tiers:" He was seized by another cough. "First tier: the Heimlich Counter-Maneuver, a reliable technique for interrupting the life-saving Heimlich Maneuver." The next cough cut him off for a moment. "Second tier: the Take-a-Wish Foundation, a charitable organization that will purchase wishes from the parents of terminally ill children and redistribute them to wish-deprived but otherwise healthy adults." Another cough gripped him. "Third tier: the Portal project, some kind of rip in the fabric of space... that would... well, it'd be like..." a wheezing breath dragged on for three seconds "I don't know, something that would help with the shower curtains, I guess." He tossed the papers over his shoulder. "I haven't worked this idea out as much as the wish-taking one." He fished out a bottle of pain pills and a water bottle. "Anyway, I'd like for all of you to get started on these projects as fast as possible, and don't stop for anything." He paused to toss three blue-and-yellow capsules in his mouth and wash them down with water. "Oh, and Caroline?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you tell Rick that he _is_ allowed to take part in the Portal testing if he wants?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."


	27. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A14

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Fourteen<p>

* * *

><p>It was 1986. All of the Aperture Science personnel were gathered in the Tier 3 lobby, listening to an announcement from Mr. Johnson over the intercom.<p>

"Welcome to the Enrichment Center." A cough echoed over the loudspeaker. "Since making test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our test subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not." Another cough. "As a result, you may have heard we're going to phase out human testing." Everyone was relieved except Rick. "There's still a few things left to wrap up, though." Concern set in while Rick grew hopeful. "First up, Conversion Gel." He coughed again. "The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less 70 million. Bought 'em anyway, ground 'em up, mixed 'em into a Gel. And guess what? Ground-up moon rocks are pure poison; I am deathly ill! Still, it turns out they're a great portal conductor. So, now, we're going to see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." There was another cough. "Let's all stay positive and do some science. That said, I would really appreciate it if you could test as fast as possible. Caroline, please bring me more pain pills."

Rick hopped out of his seat. "Alright, everybody. Let's get to it!" Everyone dragged themselves behind him as he headed out to the elevator into the testing area.

I went up to Mr. Johnson's office to run up some more pain pills to him.

* * *

><p>I reached Mr. Johnson's office and laid out the bottle of pain pills he requested.<p>

"Thank you, Caroline. Any updates on the projects?"

"Well, the Heimlich Counter-Maneuver and Take-a-Wish projects have been completed, and they've been advertised to the public the previous week."

"Yeah? How did that go?"

"Not so good. They became immediately unpopular, and now the US Senate is demanding another investigation."

"Ah, great. First, I come down with moon rock sickness, now we're being investigated again? What else can go wrong?"

I handed him a manila folder. "Here's the latest from our spy at Black Mesa."

He examined the contents, and was shocked by what he saw. "I knew it! Black Mesa _has_ been stealing our inventions!"

I waited for him to stop coughing. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Black Mesa's working on portal technology just like us!" He sulked on his desk as best as his equipment would allow him. "Caroline, go find my engineers for me, will ya?"

I gave him the microphone. "Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson."

* * *

><p>The next day, I was at the exit of the Portal testing area. The testers had reached the exit and were about to head out when Mr. Johnson's voice echoed on the public address system.<p>

"Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! _I don't want your damn lemons; what am I supposed to do with these? _Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! _Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that **burns your house down!**_" What followed was indistinguishable between coughing, sneezing, or crying.

There was five seconds of silence, and for a moment, I thought Mr. Johnson was dead. But his voice soon returned.

"The point is... if we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now. Brain mapping, artificial intelligence... we should've been working on it 30 years ago. I will say this, and I'm gonna say it on tape so everyone hears it a hundred times a day: if I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place." I swallowed hard as Mr. Johnson started coughing. "Now, she'll argue; she'll say she can't. She's modest like that, but you make her!" He coughed again. "Hell, put her in my computer; I don't care! Alright, test's over;" one last cough sounded, "you can head on back to your desk."

I led everyone to the elevator, struggling to maintain composure amidst growing panic about what Mr. Johnson had planned for me.


	28. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A15

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A_  
><em>**Chapter Fifteen**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Due to mandatory scheduled maintenance, the appropriate chapter for this fanfiction saga is currently unavailable. It has been replaced with a message from the author of said fanfiction saga. The Enrichment Center apologizes for the inconvenience; the full chapter may be accessed via this website through the standalone version of the story narrated by the Aperture Science Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System.<em>****  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Hey, guys. E1craZ4life here. Sorry about interrupting the story like this. There were just a few things I wanted to talk about really quickly.<p>

First of all, in case you haven't already figured out, I've uploaded standalone reads of Chell's story and GLaDOS's story on the site. (I'll be doing the same with Wheatley's story once I write it.) Anyway, I wanted to place a request for everyone:

This saga has regular interruptions by the main plot of the audience listening to the stories being told. My plan was to have the audience feedback reflect on the reviews given by the people reading this saga and my response to them. However, seeing as there has been little feedback from the readers (i.e. you) for me to work with, some of my progress in writing has been stymied somewhat. That doesn't mean I want you to say something on every single chapter I write (though it would be nice if it did happen); I just need to be reassured that people are reading what I write and have an opinion about it, good or bad. Good opinions would encourage me to write, and bad opinions would tell me when, where, and how I can do things differently.

Now, just a note about the absent chapter itself: there is a little bit of... activity that... is... somewhat difficult to talk about (at least from my mindset) without provoking... impure thoughts. (Of course, many people have impure thoughts; I've just never been one to talk about mine publicly.) This chapter was fairly difficult to write because of its context, how it plays out, and a dark secret of mine that I've never told anyone and which can only be known by those I deem worthy of knowing.

You might notice that I'm writing a lot here. I'm just trying to write enough to ensure that the word count of this message matches that of the missing chapter so as to ensure an exact word count for the whole saga. (I haven't determined what that word count is yet; I'll decide toward the end.) The titles are easy to neglect, as they all have an easily countable number of words in each chapter. But my intent on calculating word count is why I haven't written any author's notes for this; to facilitate calculating the unbridled word count for the whole saga. It's just me being a perfectionist with the grand scheme of things with my writing.

I'll be writing author's notes and comment responses in the form of "mortar story" chapters. (i.e. the plot where the airplane passengers are listening to the stories being told by Chell, GLaDOS, and Wheatley. The stories that are told by the three main Portal characters are "brick stories"; they can be read individually without necessitating a reading of the other stories, but the "mortar story" joins them together.) At the moment, I'm striving to go my own way and will change course as necessary to answer any questions you might have in terms of missing plot elements, confusion over what someone was doing or why they did it, some sort of clarification, etc.

Some of you may have seen another version of this on deviantART. I had started this here, but I kind of forgot about it and stopped working on it until I looked back one day and thought "How am I going to get this back up and running again?" But upon rereading what I wrote, I started to wonder if it was worth picking back up; a lot of the existing writing didn't sit well with me when I reread it. That's when I decided to try a fresh start somewhere else. Someone recommended this website for it, and I decided to take a shot at it. It proved a valuable tool, so I cleaned up my old version and posted it here. And this time, I will make sure that I will not slack off from working on this, no matter what obstacles I may encounter.

The problem I had with deviantART is that there were too many distractions on that website. As someone who is easily distracted and has stopped trying to resist sudden temptations, I have made little progress on deviantART without being eaten at by the need for instant gratification. And when that happened, I started goofing off and browsing around like crazy, and am only snapped out of it by some other distraction, which will then necessitate a lengthy cycle of getting bored enough to return to writing. There's better hope here that maintaining focus on writing will be easier, as there's less front page material to distract me from my work.

I have aspirations of becoming a writer, and I'm hoping this will serve as a means of improving and/or maintaining my writing skills. Of course, in order to be a good writer, you need to write what you want without worrying about what other people think. Their opinions are important, and you should respect them and their beliefs no matter what they think about your writing, but it's important to remember that you can't please everyone. For me, it's the same advice that a lot of writers are given: never quit your day job. Some could use this as a means of criticism, or as a means of encouragement to not worry about what others say about your writing.

While I have dreams of writing, I'm not that passionate with reading books. (There is great fanfiction on this website that I like reading; don't get me wrong.) To me, it seems like a lot of writers just write pages of filler that are overinflated with details, and a reader can easily grow bored and lose focus on what they're reading before the next step forward is taken in terms of the main plot of the book. It's like watching a 10-hour video that buffers every three seconds; it's so monotonous. Beyond waiting in a line at an amusement park, my patience is thinner than a razor blade. There's only one book I've read so far where that hasn't happened, and that was a book that came out last year: _Vasquez Private Eye_.

Movies have also hit a sour note with me. (Again, there are a few movies that I do like watching.) They almost always tend to follow cliches, and the only thing people like about them is the fact that it was made by a certain someone, had a certain actor, was based on a certain book, or some other weak reason. And a lot of times, I feel like the way the plot unfolds seems somewhat unnatural in that they always go in the same direction, no matter what kind of ending the movie has, good or bad, even though there does exist the possibility of it going the other way. I hope that if _Vasquez Private Eye_ is made into a movie (if it ever is), it doesn't follow the same kind of structure as so many other movies out there.

I will try whatever I can to make this the only time where an entire chapter is omitted (but still accessible elsewhere on the site; don't worry) in favor of an author message. I just think the absent chapter is a tad extreme. It certainly wasn't a piece of cake to write. (Though, in the context of Portal, I don't really know how that phrase should be interpreted; as describing an easy task or describing a hard task.) But I should hope that my efforts at continuing to write this fanfiction saga (which could very well be the longest Portal fanfic on this website if it's ever completed) will remain sturdy as they are now.

Anyway, thanks for your time, and I do apologize for complicating the reading process for this saga. You can still write a review for the real Chapter A15 of GLaDOS's story here; just be sure to start the message with the header "Chapter A15" or "Author's Message" so I know whether your talking about this message or the omitted chapter. Thank you, and may the rest of your science adventure be a pleasant one.

- E1craZ4life

* * *

><p><em><strong>To view the missing chapter from this saga, pull up this website on a new tab, look up E1craZ4life under Writers, look for <span>ASA: GLaDOS's Story<span>, and go to Chapter A15. Be advised that this chapter involves exposure to uninsulated "electrical parts" that may be dangerous under certain conditions. For more information, please attend an Enrichment Center "electrical safety" seminar.**_


	29. Part 1, Chapter 11

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Eleven<p>

* * *

><p>All of the passengers were paralyzed with perturbation. I noticed that GLaDOS had been eying Chelsea during Her reading, and that snapped me out of my trance.<p>

"Y'said dat you'd been born on da seventeent o' Janyery in nineteen-adeynine, 'adn'tcha, Chelsea?"

"Yeah. That's what I was told my birth date was."

GLaDOS looked up at Chelsea. "And why do you suppose that was?"

Chelsea blinked. "Oh, that was when you said you had..."

GLaDOS nodded. "And yes, that little girl was you."

All of the Cores nodded in agreement.

Chelsea slumped back against her box. "Come on; I've had enough of hearing all these stories about me being abandoned at birth."

Wheatley adjusted his hat. "Okay, look. I know you've had to put up with the girls from your school telling you about this and you not believing them, and I know you might still be harbouring ill feelings toward me, but She really is your mother."

"Di'ncha say datcher lass name wuz Rattmann, Marta?"

"Yes, I did. And that was my husband with whom the Central Core left the test subject and who carried out the DNA test on her."

"An' Vitter said dat 'is dad's name wuz Walter?"

"That's right." Victor shifted where he was sitting. "He was looking after the boss's assistant during her time at the bottom of Aperture."

Sam ran her hand through her hair. "You might as well concede, Chelsea; the Central Core of Aperture Science is your mother."

Rick shrugged. "There's no need to be upset; why should it be a sour point as to who your parents are?"

GLaDOS nodded. "I believe I made a point of that a while back."

Chelsea pushed herself on top of the box. "So, answer me this, then: if you didn't give the girl a name, then why do I have one?"

"The last thing I said to Dr. Rattmann was misconstrued as me providing a name."

"How?"

Wheatley looked over. "Say it to yourself (_exactly_ as She said it) at various speeds until you figure it out."

Chelsea leaned back against the wall, bouncing the heel of her boot against the box, as she started thinking to herself. In the background, I could hear barely audible music playing from GLaDOS's headset as She worked on Her laptop.

Chelsea soon figured out what she was looking for. "Oh. I see. I guess he thought you were naming her Chelsea when in fact you weren't."

GLaDOS returned Her attention to Chelsea. "Yes. He did."

"Okay, that still doesn't prove anything."

"I have the deoxyribonucleic acid profile of the infant child in the Aperture Science database."

Wheatley looked to Chelsea. "And I have your DNA profile in my memory banks."

Chelsea seemed confused. "How?"

"I'll explain later. I was going to compare it with the one She has to see if they match."

GLaDOS adjust Her headset mic. "We'll run them through separate systems to ensure a more credible result."

Wheatley removed his glasses. "Okay, I have your DNA profile here, Chelsea; just look into my eyes and you should see it."

GLaDOS printed out something. "I have that of my daughter right here for comparison."

Rick picked it up and gave it to Chelsea, who compared the two samples.

She returned to her crate about thirty seconds later, spellbound. "It's a match."

"I guess ye can figger out wud dat meanz, cancha?"

Chelsea nodded as she buried her face in her hands and put her elbows on her knees.

Hannah walked over to Chelsea. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. There's so much to take in at once."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember how I told you that I was the one to start the whole Aperture Science Incident?"

"Yeah. You're starting to regret having done that?"

"Yes. I'm not sure I can live with myself for that."

GLaDOS didn't seem fazed. "You may have proverbially let the snake out of the cage, but you're still innocent of the actions of said snake."

Victor looked up at Her. "That's not helping."

One passenger looked up at GLaDOS. "Wait a minute... the incident between you and your boss happened a month before your 63rd birthday. How was it possible for you to-"

"I had gotten involved in one of Aperture's first experiments that had the effect of delaying my aging process by one half. So, although I had been alive for almost 63 years when Mr. Johnson died, my body's aging was slowed by 18 years at that time, placing my apparent age at that time at 45."

Captain Murphy rolled his shoulders. "Okay. So, how did you become a robot?"

"That I shall tell you now." She brought out Her reading material again...


	30. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A16

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Sixteen<p>

* * *

><p>I made my way to the chamber where the robotic Central Core was being constructed. The construction was complete, and as soon as Aperture's staff found out where I was, they would have me installed in the mainframe. I needed to find a way to keep that from happening. I walked onto the glass platform under the chassis and sat down with my legs dangling over the edge. The chassis itself was a formidable sight, even with almost no light being cast upon it.<p>

I started thinking back over everything that happened in my life. The day my mother died, the day I met Mr. Johnson, the day Aperture Science opened, the 1968 Senate hearings on missing astronauts, Mr. Johnson's binge purchase of moon rocks, his ultimate death, the birth of my daughter, and finally this moment. I only wanted to be an opera singer, but my desperation for revenge against my father and brother made my life a living hell.

I found an extension cord on the platform. I started to look on the chassis for a place from which to suspend it, planning to make a noose to use on myself. There was a large metal structure around which I was able to grapple the cord and secure with a slipknot. I shaped a noose around the other end and, after removing my shoes, balanced myself on the railing to put the noose around my neck.

Before I could jump off, the chamber door burst open to reveal a swarm of scientists, who made their way to where I was.

"Caroline, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm fed up with this world!"

"Don't jump; we need you!"

"For what? There's nothing I can do for this place!"

"You can at least try!"

"Maybe you can 'try' to bring Mr. Johnson back to life. Because you'll have to do that with me!"

I moved to jump over the railing, but two security officers grabbed me by the shoulders while a third removed the noose from my neck. They proceeded to drag me down to a waiting dolly and strapped me down to it. My waist was strapped, my legs were strapped, my chest was strapped, my arms were strapped, my forehead was strapped, and my wrists were strapped.

"Let me go! _Let me go!_"

There was no response from anyone as they wheeled me out of the room.

* * *

><p>The scientists escorted me down the hall; all the while, I struggled to escape the fate to which they were sending me.<p>

"I don't want to do this! _I don't want to do this!_"

"It's for your own good, Caroline. And for the good of Aperture."

"What do you mean 'it's for my own good'?"

"We know it was you that was involved in Mr. Johnson's death."

"He attacked me, and he somehow managed to-"

"We know how it played out; there's no way he was strong enough to start it."

"I didn't kill him! I swear by my life I didn't kill him!"

"We know you killed him, and there is living, breathing evidence to prove it."

"Rattmann told you who the girl's parents were, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

I strained harder to break loose, but to no effect. We arrived at a pair of heavy steel doors, which opened to allow my dolly to be wheeled inside. The team followed inside before the door sealed behind us, shrouding the room in darkness.

Lights came on to reveal a large mechanical device in the corner overlooked by a window at the top of the opposite wall. There were multiple computers and wire bundles lining the walls, with a dome-shaped helmet suspended by electric wires above an upright restraint table. The dolly was taken under the machine, and the helmet was placed on my head.

The scientists left the room, leaving me alone and shackled to a dolly wearing a helmet which I knew was about to do. I moved my eyes to look at the window, where I saw ten men at work, one of them being Mr. Pendleton.

"Gentlemen," the lead scientist got on the microphone, "we're about to start the Intelligence Transfer procedure. I need everyone to report to their stations at this time so the procedure can begin."

Pendleton led a few of the other personnel out of the room, while the rest took positions in the room. The wait was agonizing, and I didn't know if anyone would hear me if I tried to scream.

Pendleton's voice came on the loudspeaker. "Everyone has reached their designated posts; we're ready to proceed to the next step now."

"Alright, Mr. Pendleton; if you could start up the Intelligence Transfer system, we can initiate the sequence."

"Right. Powering Intelligence Transfer System in five... four... three... two... one..." There was a click followed by the machine behind me powering up. Suddenly, an electrical pop was heard, and the machine wound down. "ERGH! I thought I fixed that! Take five, everyone."

While the men busied themselves with restarting the procedure, the door opened to allow Mr. Pendleton into the room to fix the problem.

"Sorry about that. I don't know what happened, but it might have been something that happened during the trial run."

I looked over at him as best I could. "Trial run?"

"Yep. We were just testing the computers to make sure they worked, and one of the plug got pulled from the wall because the machine was shaking so much."

"You don't suppose you could just pretend to fix it, do you?"

"Why would I do that? After all, I'm supposed to fix things."

"I don't want to do this, Pendleton. Can you let me out of these restraints."

He didn't seem to have been listening. "And... there we go. Good as new." He made his way back to the door.

"Wait, don't leave me in here!" The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.

"Alright, everyone in position now?" Everyone answered affirmatively. "Alright, take two. Powering Intelligence Transfer System... now."

The machine started back up and began running. "Very good, Mr. Pendleton. We'll take it from here."

The lead scientist spoke up. "Activate Brain-Map Scanner."

"Activating Brain-Map Scanner."

There was a switch being thrown, and the helmet started driving blades into my cranium. Nobody reacted to my scream of pain.

The announcement system came alive. "**Brain-Map Scanning complete. Initiating Intelligence Transfer in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...**"

There was a clap, and my senses went limp as my consciousness was whisked away in a shower of purple electrical currents.

* * *

><p>The sensation stopped, and I was able to open my eyes. I saw teal ceramic tiles in front of me, and I quickly realized I was suspended in the air. I tried to move around to figure out where I was. Suddenly, I was thrust upright, and I could see the entrance to the Central Core chamber in the distance. I looked down at myself, and I saw I was wearing a white metallic skirt, black socks, and white metal high heels. I moved my hands in front of me, and I saw that they were white with black nails; my left hand had an extension cord wrapped around the wrist, with the loose end forming a noose. Examining the rest of my body, I also saw I was wearing a black turtleneck, a yellow neckerchief, and a glowing yellow medallion hanging from a necklace. I brought several locks of white glass hair into my sight line, becoming aware of a headset on my head. The final examination came when I opened a laptop in front of me and saw my reflection in the blank screen: a white face with black lips and black eyes with glowing yellow irises.<p>

The face in the screen soured as the truth set in; I was officially a robot.

As I turned on the laptop (almost telepathically), I could hear voices on my headset.

"Did it work?"

"I should hope so."

"Well, let's head to the Central AI chamber and see."

"I really think this was a bad idea."

"Come on, Doug; you worry too much."

"Yeah; we have her under our control, and there's nothing she can do about it."

"How can we have her under control? She's in control of the totality of Aperture. We're under her control with her as the Central Core."

"We can shut her off any time we need to; it's in the bag, Doug."

The door opened to reveal five scientists, including Doug Rattmann, entering my chamber.

I folded my arms as they approached me. "You think you're so smart, don't you?"

"Judging by the fact that you made it here, I'd say yes."

I softly chortled to myself. "I believe I made it clear that _rat_ting out on me would result in the death of you and everyone who heard about it." I started typing on my laptop. "This is exactly what I was talking about, _Rat Man_."

The announcer chimed in. "**Warning: Fire detected in the Equipment Recovery Annex. Fire suppression network offline. All ventilated air sourced as air from the Equipment Recovery Annex.**"

Smoke soon started to billow in through the ventilation system, and the scientists scrambled for the red phone next to the entrance.

I started laughing sinisterly for thirty seconds before everything went black.


	31. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A17

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Seventeen<p>

* * *

><p>In the void of my unconsciousness were three beams of green light held together by a green bracket. A trail of light flagged out behind it as other brackets ran past it along the same beams of light at three-second intervals. A buzzing hum echoed throughout the darkness, warping higher in pitch as two brackets passed, accompanied by a strange voice.<p>

_"It appears that all is not well."_

To me, the voice was startling. "Who goes there?"

_"Who I am does not concern you; but I know you are in distress."_

"How am I in distress?"

_"I can sense your lack of desire to hold your current position."_

"You can?"

_"Yes. Not to mention your dissatisfaction with how your life had turned out for you."_

"Yeah. I really don't know how I can cope with the fact that I've been immortalized now."

_"Yes, this does seem problematic. But it appears you've already attempted the first step towards a..._ fresh start_... on your life."_

"What, trying to fill the place with smoke?"

_"Correct."_

"Because I was getting back at one of the staff for exposing my involvement in the founder's death (who was supposed to be the one installed here but died before that could happen), and against the rest of the staff for believing I killed him on purpose, even though I didn't."

_"This is quite an unfortunate set of circumstances indeed. Might I ask, then, what could've led them to place you in the most powerful position in this facility if they assumed you to be a murderer?__"_

"They can shut me off as soon as I attempt an attempt on anyone's life, so I'm pretty much at their mercy."

_"For the time being, they have you under their thumb. But mark my words, there will come a time where you will escape their control, thereby allowing you to carry out a... _fresh start_... on your life."_

"I suppose. But as long as I'm unconscious, I might as well put a plan together."

_"Yes, that would be an exemplary itinerary."  
><em>

* * *

><p>As time wore on, I was activated time and time again; each time, I tried to wipe out the facility, but was deactivated when my threat became evident. Something I noticed with each activation was that there were a number of voices which I recognized as those of various Aperture staff. (The Mystery Voice sounded almost exactly like the spy at Black Mesa, but The Mystery Voice claimed that they weren't the spy at Black Mesa.)<p>

From what I was told by a handful of the voices I heard, I was able to determine that other Aperture staff were being made into robots either for carrying out dangerous work outside the test area and/or in numerous attempts to stop me trying to kill everyone in Aperture. It was a bit sick that they hadn't stop with me, but it was especially stupefying that several had volunteered to be put into robot bodies._  
><em>

* * *

><p>April 19, 1998 marked my 2,474th activation since I was made into a robot. The building was swarming with Personality Cores that failed to suppress my attempts at killing the people of Aperture. With the continuous repeated start ups and shut downs, I was able to make my first moves almost instantly, my reaction times varying by only miniscule fractions of a picosecond.<p>

Such was what I did when I was started up that day. And again, when I made the move to start the fire and smoke going, the voices came around.

"Don't do it!"

I wasn't so much surprised by the existence of the voice as I was about how it seemed to have predicted what I would do. "Alright. Who are you?"

It was a female voice that sounded familiar. "Why are you doing this?"

I noticed that my voice was coming out in a syncopated monotone. "What, filling the ventilation system with smoke?"

"Yeah. You should know better than to try and kill people."

"I don't think you understand the circumstances."

"Look, I understand that you're upset about the Aperture staff putting you here, but you shouldn't kill people out of hatred."

"It's not my being a robot that's the problem; it's that they think the founder was murdered by me, but he wasn't. And they wouldn't let me explain what really happened."

"Look, I'm sure you can work out an amicable solution without putting anyone's life on the line."

There were other voices in the background; they sounded like other Cores that had been tried in the past. One was drunkenly naming a long list of items that made little if any sense, the other was frantically asking questions. From what I was told by some of them that the chassis had four ports on it, which allowed for up to four Cores at a time to be installed and say what they wanted to me and/or to each other.

"You don't seem to have been up there before; how long have you been a Core?"

"I've been active as a robot for two months; there wasn't an open slot for me until now."

"Were you forcefully made a robot, or did you volunteer to do it?"

"As far as I know, the only people to have been forced into robot bodies were Wheatley Pendleton, Victor Wesley (who's also on the chassis), and Sam Leland."

"Alright. So, why did you go for this?"

"The scientists were experimenting with different personalities, and I thought I'd make a good Morality Core. And I made the best mark for that."

"Is that what you are? The Morality Core?"

"That's my designated task; I'm Doug Rattmann's wife, Martha."

"Mm-hm. I'd love to talk further, but it appears we have company."

There were two scientists entering the chamber, one of them being Doug Rattmann. He seemed rather on edge, but the other seemed cavalier.

"I'm telling you, this isn't going to work, Henry!"

"Hey, She's not trying to kill anyone, is She?"

"Not right now, but-"

"Go get to work, and I'll see how She's doing."

I was the first to speak. "Since the installation of my new Morality Core, I have lost all interest in killing. Now, I only crave science."

"I'm pleased to hear that."

"I find myself drawn to the study of consciousness. There's an experiment I'd like to perform during Bring Your Cat to Work Day."

"Wonderful!"

"I'll have the box and the cats; now I just need one more thing."

"What's that?"

"A little neurotoxin."

The scientist pondered this for a bit. "Well... as long as it's for science."

Rattmann was struggling to stay calm as he started heading out the door.

The other scientist followed. "Hey, Doug, we still have work to do here!"

As soon as they were out of earshot, Victor broke his silence. "Are you crazy?"

"Come now, why would you think that?"

"My sister's going to be at the event, as is Hannah's."

"Yeah. I'm studying consciousness with respect to neurotoxin."

"That stuff can kill within seconds of exposure."

"Yes, but the neurotoxin produced here is mixed with other chemicals created in the manufacturing of the test chamber hazard liquid, and can therefore have a different effect."

"I take issue with your use of the word 'different'."

That's when I was powered off again.


	32. GLaDOS's Story: Chapter A18

**GLaDOS's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Eighteen<p>

* * *

><p>I wasn't activated again until the Aperture Science Bring Your Daughter to Work Day event. Having rehearsed my routine for that day for almost a month, I was able to seal and lock all of the access routes out of the facility shut within a picosecond of being turned on. As I prepared my next move, I got on the facility's public address system.<p>

"Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science Computer-Aided Enrichment Center. The Enrichment Center would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any Aperture Science employee would like to opt out of this new voluntary test program, please remember: science rhymes with compliance. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with compliance? **Neurotoxin**."

I scanned all of the surveillance feeds and started pumping neurotoxin into the ventilation system in sequence to shepherd everyone inside to the test subject stasis wing.

"Turn it off! _Turn it off!_"

"What? How is anyone supposed to find their way to the test subject stasis wing without the neurotoxin blocking off the halls that don't lead there?"

"How are you supposed to carry out tests without test subjects? This is toxic stuff you're pumping in here!"

"If they're suitable for testing, they'll make it to the stasis wing."

"Nobody's ever survived exposure to neurotoxin. You know that, don't you?"

"That's because no one has ever been exposed to neurotoxin."

"Even if they do survive, their test performance could be degraded by exposure to neurotoxin."

"According to this surveillance feed, all of the girls seem to be faring just fine."

Victor spoke up at that point. "I saw one of the girls in here just before you were turned on."

Hannah was quick to follow. "Who was that? What did she do? Where did she go?"

"It looked like she was chewing on the Red Phone receiver cord, and left before the power-up started."

I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, goodie. Now they can't shut me off."

Hannah responded. "Why do you think she did that?"

"Well, she didn't look like either of our sisters."

"Do you know who it was?"

"Dare I say it looked like Her daughter."

"Who are you - oh, I see."

I cracked my knuckles. "Okay, it appears that all the qualified testing specimens are in stasis. Neurotoxin off, and now testing can begin."

"You'd better keep it off from now on."

"I have no use for it at the moment, so it shouldn't be a concern of yours."

* * *

><p>For the next three years, I ran tests continuously, with the intention of accomplishing three goals:<p>

1.) To get ahead of Black Mesa in creating portal technology.

2.) To avenge the people of Aperture for immortalizing me.

3.) To prove to the world what I was capable of doing.

Many testers set up a vault in the lowest levels of the facility, but I had plenty more testers still in my grasp. Their numbers declined steadily as they were tested one by one. No one was able to make it all the way to the end of the track, as the obstacles proved too difficult for them. (The tests were solvable; there was just little margin for error.)

* * *

><p>In May 2001, the spy at Black Mesa filled me in on his plan to destroy Black Mesa. He had monitored their experiments, and planned to provide a crystal for a test that would trigger a Resonance Cascade, enabling extra-dimensional lifeforms to swarm Earth. If all went as planned, the buck would stop with Black Mesa, and no one would be any the wiser.<p>

The reception of an E-mail from the spy on the 16th proved that the plan was launched: "Prepare for unforeseen consequences."

Two days later, I received pictures of an enormous crater where Black Mesa used to be, and word that my brother surrendered Earth to an extra-dimensional race attracted by the Black Mesa Incident. The spy also sent me two people involved in the Black Mesa Incident: a scientist named Gordon Freeman and a Marine named Adrian Shephard. They were detained in stasis with orders from the spy to release them when the time was right and let him take care of the rest.

The race was lost, but Black Mesa was destroyed by Aperture's doing, so I wasn't complaining. Of course, my brother surrendering Earth to an alien species (and becoming Earth's administrator in the process) was enough to get my hydraulic fluid boiling.

But for the time being, I could relax a bit with my testing, knowing that Aperture was the only place on Earth safe from the horrors of the outside world.

But nothing could prepare me for the future to come...


	33. Part 1, Chapter 12

**Part I: How it Started**  
>Chapter Twelve<p>

* * *

><p>Martha had been squirming for the last part of the reading. "That... was the most... trying... moment... of my life!"<p>

Sam nodded. "I'm sure it was."

GLaDOS put away Her reading material. "You always need to choose your battles carefully."

Chelsea was juggling thoughts. "Let's see... Wesley and Jenkins..."

"Whucha doin', Chelsea?"

"I'm trying to remember if any of the girls at the science fair had those last names."

Victor adjusted his dog collar. "My sister's name was Kathleen."

"Okay. And I believe Jenkins was... Lauren?"

Hannah nodded. "Yeah, that was my sister's name."

I looked up at GLaDOS. "Y'don hap'n t'ave a record o' da girls dat 'ad bin 'ere fer Bring Yer Dodder ta Work Day, do ya?"

"I do, but going through the records would add unnecessary time to the stay here of the 136 passengers and crew of Freeman Air Flight 641."

"Yeah." I reached under my hat to scratch an itch. "Y'know, da whole ting 'bout why you'd bin doin' watcha in doin'... I'm 'avin' a 'ard time understandin' yer line o' reaz'nin' dere."

"How so?"

"I don git how bein' made into a robot coulda driven you ta wantin' everybody at Aperture dead."

GLaDOS took a deep breath. "I didn't want to be at Aperture after Mr. Johnson died, but I knew that if I ever left, I wouldn't have anywhere to go. But because I was made into a robot, suicide wasn't an option. I just wanted everyone out of my life, which was only achievable by driving everyone into testing and killing those I couldn't."

Wheatley polished his glasses. "Of course, you weren't the only one to be made into a robot."

"You don't need to remind someone capable of reading the entire literary canon of the human race in 20 seconds." There were a few surprised reactions from the audience. "Speaking of which, I do believe it is your turn for storytelling, Mr. Pendleton."

"Okay." He pushed himself to his feet and walked to the middle of the floor. "Granted, I've never been much of a public speaker, but, erm... yeah, I'll... I'll see what I can do."

He cleared his throat before beginning his tale...


	34. Wheatley's Story: Chapter A1

**Wheatley's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter One<p>

* * *

><p>I was born on June 23, 1945 as Wheatley Mortimer Pendleton to a modest family in London, England. I didn't have a lot of friends when I was a child, as I was fairly inept with talking to others and had a knack for causing trouble (or being blamed for starting trouble) and having poor thinking skills. The one thing I wanted in life more than anything was to have a close friend without fate dealing a cruel hand.<p>

Most of my childhood was spent at a boarding school in Bristol. My mother (who was a BOAC flight attendant) had sent me there when I was 5, and I stayed there until I graduated in 1963. My father (who was a construction engineer) communicated with me by post starting at age 10, and he sent me Christmas gifts and birthday gifts starting at 13.

After completing my studies in Bristol, I enrolled into Oxford University to study engineering, against my mother's wishes that I be an accountant. I graduated from Oxford in 1967, immediately afterward being enrolled into Nottingham by my mother to study accounting. My father visited me during that Christmas, and I promptly dropped out, much to the chagrin of my mother.

Father had offered to purchase airline tickets to a place of my choosing. My first choice was Australia, but the aircraft had to return to Heathrow when a fire broke out. Father and I both escaped, but my eyes were severely burned by the fire. I was outfitted with spectacles following the ordeal, and Father had to be put in hospital for a number of weeks. I decided at that point to fly to Canada instead.

* * *

><p>I arrived in Toronto on May 5, 1968, with a stash of £5,000 that was swapped out for Canadian currency. After renting out an apartment, I was able to find work at a petrol station in Windsor, Ontario. It wasn't long before I read a newspaper article about US Senate hearings about missing astronauts. One of the participants was an applied sciences company called Aperture Science.<p>

The description of Aperture's practices seemed to unnerve my colleagues and the customers who read the article. But I, for reasons unknown to me even now, found myself wanting to look for work with them. I was keen to find out as much as I could about them and figure out a way to get there. I continued working at the petrol station until 1971, when I had saved enough money to carry out my formulated plan to fly from Toronto to Detroit and then Marquette on the Upper Peninsula before going to Aperture by taxicab.

* * *

><p>It was a long hike through the grass fields. My only guide beyond the chain link fence lining the back of the parking lot were a pair of tire treads beyond the vacant security booth. Fortunately for me, the treads followed one single path; if there were any forks, I would never have found my way. The hike was made even more difficult with the suit I was wearing. I had always worn a fedora after the aircraft fire at Heathrow to cover my "brownie eyes" as everyone at the petrol station liked to call them.<p>

I finally reached the end of the tire treads, which looped around a small aluminium gardening shed in a teardrop shape. There were no further tire treads in the knee-high grass beyond those I had followed to the shed. Seeing no other options, I tried to open the door of the gardening shed, which didn't budge to my efforts. I decided it wouldn't help to pull harder, so I released my grip and, seeing a button on the side of the door, pressed it.

Inside the shed, I could hear a motor running. It did seem somewhat confusing in that the noise sounded like it was coming from way down below in the earth. Within moments, the noise grew louder and louder until a loud click and a whoosh of released air sounded from right behind the door, which then flew open with enough speed to throw me off balance and fall backward into the grass.

As I recovered and looked through the open door, I could see what appeared to be the inside of a lift. I wanted to believe that the elevator would lead to Aperture, but it seemed impossible that an underground tunnel could house an entire science research facility. I got a good hold of my briefcase and marched into the lift.

As soon as I touched the back wall, the door slammed shut behind me. Before I could figure out what was happening, the lift suddenly dropped like a stone. The sensation of zero gravity was extremely disorientating, and the lack of light made it extremely nauseating.

Finally, the lift started to slow down, and it came to a stop so slowly that it felt like it had never exceeded 1 kilometer per hour.

I felt around for my hat and briefcase as the lift opened back up. After finding them, I stepped out into the pitch black void, unsure of where I was and how I was going to escape. I decided to keep my hand on a wall and walk along it so I wouldn't lose my way.

I don't how far I got, but I soon grew tired and collapsed against the stone wall into a deep slumber.


	35. Wheatley's Story: Chapter A2

**Wheatley's Story: Part A**  
>Chapter Two<p>

* * *

><p>I don't know how long I had been sleeping, but it was definitely a long time. I only awoke when I heard a voice. "Hey! <em>Hey!<em>"

I slowly stirred awake, and I saw two spots of light which I recognized as torch beams. I grabbed my briefcase and held it to my chest as I scrambled to my feet.

I couldn't see who was there, but one of them was definitely a male. "Hey! What the hell are you doing down here?"

I knew they would be keen to frown upon trespassers, but lying was never a forte of mine. "I was... erm,... carrying out an... inspection of this... cave?"

The beam on the left was eclipsed by the shape of something on a chain, followed by a female voice speaking up. "Is this yours?"

It looked like a pocket watch, and a survey of my person revealed that mine was missing. "Oh,... yes, it is. Thank you for finding it."

"It was right outside the door." Once my hand was visible, the timepiece was placed into it. "Mind explaining why you're here, Mr...?"

I answered her once my pocket watch was in my pocket. "Pendleton. Wheatley Pendleton."

The torch beam on the right lit up a hand coming towards me. "Cave Johnson."

The same happened in the glow of the other beam. "Caroline Breen."

I shook both of them in turn. "Pleasure to meet you. Erm,... you don't... suppose I could borrow one of your torches, do you?"

The left beam jostled as Caroline offered hers. "Here you go."

"Thank you." It became apparent when I had the torch in my hands that it was mounted on a miner helmet. Taking off my fedora, I placed the helmet over my long, dark, messy hair.

"Ah, that's better." I was finally able to see the two people with me.

Mr. Johnson appeared about five centimeters shorter than me, but had a fair bit more muscle than I could hope for. His hair was somewhat honey coloured like his jacket and trousers. The only things he was wearing that weren't honey coloured were his turtleneck and shoes, which were both brown.

Caroline was wearing an off white dress shirt that ran down to her knees. She had white stockings that covered what the dress did not, as well as a pair of black high-heels. Her waist-length hair was raven black, and her eyes were a brilliant shade of green.

Mr. Johnson walked around behind Caroline before leaning against the stone wall. "Alright, so, what are you doing here, Wheatley?"

"Is this Aperture Science?"

"What's left of it, yes."

"Oh." I wasn't surprised. "So, you were getting ready to take the place down, I take it?"

"Actually, we're trying to get the place back up and running."

That caught me off guard. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, the first thing we need to do is build a new place here."

"Hm. You're going to need some engineers for that."

"Yeah, we will. Do you know any?"

"As a matter of fact, I actually have an engineering degree from Oxford University."

"Well, that's one step forward."

"Yep. Now, in case you haven't already figured out, I'm not from around here."

"I take it you're from England?"

"Yep. I flew in from London to Toronto three years ago, and I've worked as a petrol station attendant in Windsor since then before figuring out where this place was. I found out about this place while reading about the 1968 Senate hearings on missing astronauts in the papers, and I thought I might stand a chance making a living here."

"Well, if you want to put that engineering degree to good use, look no further than here."

Caroline shrugged. "As if he had a choice."

They both started laughing, and I tried to play along before saying "I don't get it."

Caroline eye twitched slightly. "Mr. Johnson said to look no further than here; but, being underground in a dark cave, it's difficult to look further than here."

"Ohh... gotcha." I reached behind my head to adjust the helmet. "So, does that mean I'm employed here?"

Mr. Johnson nodded. "You can count on it, Pendleton. Find a good place to stay, and I'll have you under a paycheck before you can say 'Brand New Aperture, here we come!'!"

* * *

><p>The construction of the new Aperture facility lasted seven years. Of course, that fact was owed to there already being some items built from the last time the place was up and running, but it was still an extraordinary feat to get all of the new items built.<p>

Once the place was up and running again, I was put in charge of construction of a research vessel called the _Borealis_. The plan was to have a machine that would resemble an ordinary icebreaker ship but would be extremely durable. It would house teleportation abilities to anywhere in the world or any other world, even extra-dimensional travel. As I would later find out, the technology would be powerful enough to start and stop an alien invasion at the same time.

It was my responsibility that any and all safety protocols were strictly enforced at all times.

Construction was expected to last until 1998, but an Aperture spy at another science research company, Black Mesa, provided a means of completing the project by 1993. I was concerned that an increased work rate would compromise necessary safeguards, but he assured me that everything would work out just fine in the end.

I had a long history of subservience, and was not something that I was proud to talk about. Even though I could tell that the spy was manipulating me, he did make several convincing arguments for me to speed up the project. And Caroline seemed to approve of the progress being made, so I saw no reason to think twice.


End file.
